Essence of Poppies
by Scotch-Irish Rose
Summary: A series of Ferginor drabbles/one-shots/vignettes, ranging from their childhood to marriage. Rating has been bumped up!
1. Good Company

Good Company

_Fergus of DunBroch visits his good friend, Princess Elinor, while she is sick in bed._

* * *

The pleasant call of a dove echoed through the crisp, autumn air as it perched outside Elinor's window. Normally, the princess would be up and out at this time of day, whether her activities involved tending to royal duties or meandering about the highlands, for she was constantly lectured by the queen that laziness would not to be tolerated under any circumstances.

However, due to an unfortunate turn of events, the girl was under strict orders to remain in bed for the day, for she, the princess, was ill. Though she considered it to be simply a cold, her mother, Queen Margaret of Macdonald, was convinced that the situation was much more dire, as the heir to the throne could not afford to miss many lessons or dinner parties due to illness. To be absolutely certain Elinor's health wouldn't suffer, the queen ordered her daughter to limit her usual activities, which, unfortunately, required the princess to be locked in her room in her mother's effort to keep her from wandering off. Elinor was convinced that her severe boredom was the only thing causing her physical _and_ mental states to suffer.

The princess sat up in bed with a sigh, gazing wistfully out the window. A sudden, clamorous _clang _echoed throughout the room, causing Elinor to nearly jump out of her skin. She nearly let a curse slip right from her mouth, though she knew that if her mother had heard her, she would have her tongue. _A lady does not curse, _the queen had said, and Elinor was careful to abide by her mother's rules. She pulled back the thick quilt that was covering her and scurried to the window, flinching at the chill of the room. Perhaps she was more under the weather than she'd previously thought?

She peered through the glass, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that caused the noise. It was then that she noticed a grappling hook clinging to the stone edge of the castle, and she quickly tossed the window open.

"Jings crivens help ma boab! Ye've gone and scared me half to death!" she exclaimed, though she sported a smile.

"Hi, Eli!" a voice greeted, and Elinor raised an eyebrow. "Let me up, will ye?"

"Aye," she said affirmatively. _That lad, _she thought fondly, shaking her head and poking it out the window, craning her neck to get a view of the ground. There, a good six stories down, stood a rather confident-looking boy clad in a plaid kilt and a fur pelt, his head topped with mop of curly, red hair, a gunny sack tossed over his shoulder. Elinor raised her hand in a slight wave, and the lad placed a sturdy foot on the stone wall of the castle, clenching the gunny sack tightly in his teeth and grabbing the rope attached to the hook in his fists.

"Whatever are ye doin'?!" Elinor exclaimed incredulously in a somewhat raspy voice, though the boy ignored her. "Fergus!"

The stubborn boy began to scale the tower, a determined gaze plastered upon his face. Elinor stepped back from the window and paced back and forth for several seconds, then returned to the spot of her lookout. Fergus was about halfway up the tower, Elinor figured, but was beginning to show fatigue. The grappling hook began to slip, and Elinor gasped as she quickly grabbed the hook.

She muttered under her breath, "Fergus, if you don't wind up killin' yerself, I'll do it for ye." The boy smiled victoriously as he placed a hand upon the windowsill several seconds later and pulled himself up. He removed his cargo from his mouth and hollered ecstatically, proud of his feat, before receiving a harsh order for silence from Elinor. "My mum won't approve of ye bein' here." she warned, though Fergus ignored her.

"That's how ye do it, Eli." he boasted, observing his companion as she quickly shut the window, rolling her eyes. She coughed lightly and returned to her bed, crawling under the covers. "Are ye alright? Ye're lookin' a wee bit peely-wally." Fergus asked with a frown. Elinor nodded, gazing up at the ceiling. "Heard ye weren't feelin' well," he added, tossing the gunnysack on to her bed. She sat up, eying it with curiosity, and Fergus plopped down on the foot of her bed.

"What's all this?" she asked, gesturing to the sack. He tugged it open, revealing its contents to her.

"Well, I... I was walkin' through the glen on my way here, and I... well, I found these. I-I know they're yer favorite, so I figured I'd pick 'em up and bring 'em to ye."

He sheepishly handed her a fistful of red and yellow poppies, and she beamed at him. She brought them up to her nose, though her sense of smell wasn't at its best.

"Thank ye, Fergus." she whispered, surprised at his sympathy towards her. His compassion was out of the ordinary. Normally, Fergus of DunBroch was quite boisterous and obnoxious - tolerable at best.

He nodded, clearing his throat and avoiding her soft, amber eyes when he felt his face becoming uncomfortably warm.

"I know that since I'm here, ye shouldn't be a' worryin' 'bout a dull time," he said, arching his brows and reaching his hand in the sack once again. "But, I brought this along with me, just 'n case." He removed a thick book and held it with both hands.

Elinor's eyes brightened, and he gently handed the book to her after she carefully placed her precious flowers on her wooden bedside table. She had always been a proficient reader, due to the amount of lessons she had partaken in, thanks to the queen. Elinor began flipping through the pages, her smile growing bigger by the second. She smiled sincerely at him, touched. This certainly was abnormal. He wasn't usually one to be thoughtful. She noticed him begin to shift uncomfortably and mutter phrases quietly in Gaelic.

"What is it, Fergus?" she inquired. He shook his head, and Elinor frowned. As a way to break the uncomfortable silence, she leaned over the side of the bed and removed something wrapped in cloth from beneath it.

"I've somethin' for ye, too," she said, pulling back the corner of the cloth and revealing a fresh, sweet pastry. Fergus' eyes widened as she placed the treat in his hands. "My mum brought this to me earlier, but I decided to save it for ye. I know how much ye love 'em."

"Thanks, lass!" Fergus exclaimed, wrapping up the tart and tucking it away in his pocket. "I'll be savin' it for later, for the walk home."

The boy observed the princess settle down on the bed once again, and she smiled at him. She promptly began sniffling, and she craned her body across her pillow, struggling to locate something in her drawer. Fergus, as if he had read her mind, quickly reached into his pocket and held out a handkerchief somewhat awkwardly to her.

"Here, use this." he offered, managing a smile, though he was trying to avoid her eyes. She graciously accepted the offer and blew her nose audibly. Fergus responded with an amused laugh. "'Twas quite lady-like, Yer Highness." he chirped, bowing his head mockingly. He grinned with satisfaction as the princess turned a bright shade of crimson. She chucked the used handkerchief at him, causing him to gawk and shield himself with his hands. "Och, Elinor!" he whimpered, lifting up his friend's makeshift weapon and tossing it on to her lap. Elinor released a giggle, and Fergus' lower lip protruded in a pout. "Real funny, lass."

"Aye, 'tis!" she responded with a demure smile. Fergus' attention span wasn't up to par with hers, and therefore Elinor noticed a few seconds later that something else had captured her friend's attention, as he'd suddenly grown distant. His eyes glinted with anticipation as he pointed to the cover of the book.

"Aye, when I'm grown, I'm goin' to be just like the brave lads in this storybook!" he exclaimed, and Elinor offered him a supportive smile. "I'm gonna go places! See the world!" Elinor smiled once again, though this one in particular was a subtle, sad smile. She knew that she had no room for dreams, as she was destined to become queen one day, and she had no say in the decision. Fergus noticed her sudden glum aura, and frowned.

"Er, what is it, lass?" he asked, showing obvious concern.

Elinor shook her head."Oh, no, Fergus. I'm fine." she assured him, faking a smile. Fergus continued to hold a puzzled expression, but continued.

"I'm goin' to be just like my dad... and the king, of course. Yer dad!" he added cheerfully, pointing at her. "I'll have adventures, and see different lands! I'll see 'em all! And the lasses! Oh, I'll have 'em all, too!" He grinned excitedly, and the princess frowned at his chauvinistic attitude. Then, suddenly, it occurred to her.

"Fergus," she whispered, and he focused his attention on her. "Did ye ever consider, well, settlin' down and... and raisin' a family?" she asked, tracing the stitches on the quilt draped over her with her finger while anxiously awaiting his answer.

"Och, no," he scoffed, and, for some unknown reason to the princess, Elinor's heart sank.

"Oh," she murmured. She then ventured, "Wh-why not?"

Fergus shrugged, flipping to the first page of the book. "Why be trapped with a wife and wee ones when ye could be free to do whatever ye want, whenever it suits ye?"

Elinor already felt trapped. She was dreading the day when she would be forced to wed an unknown man and proceed to take her place as queen. She swallowed and stared at the quilt, disappointed at his lack of concern on this subject matter. He seemed to notice her displeasure, and therefore closed the book and chewed his lower lip, as if he was at a sudden loss for words. Elinor abruptly seized the handkerchief, narrowly managing to bring it to her face swiftly enough to capture a sneeze that escaped her.

"Bless you," Fergus responded in a low, smooth voice.

"Thank you, Fergus," the princess said graciously, and as she felt another impending outburst looming within her, she brought the fabric up to her face once more as a precaution. "Oh, I do hope ye don't-"

Her voice trailed off; Fergus managed a soft chuckle as her premonition proved to be correct. "Bless you, again," he said, frowning with subtle concern as she blew her nose. Her tired eyes filled with a newly found worry.

"I do hope ye don't wind up comin' down with this," she said with a sniff. "Perhaps ye should leave... I don't want to risk passin' this dreadful cold on to you."

"I'll be fine, Eli," he assured her. "I don't mind stayin' here with ye." he professed, gazing at her sympathetically for a moment before thumbing through the pages of the book. "Erm, how 'bout I read to ye?" he offered, hoping to somehow find a way to cheer her up, as he could feel the melancholy radiating from her being. "I-I could use the practice."

Elinor cracked a smile. Though the young lord was adept at many things, he wasn't a very skilled reader, while she had most likely spent days of her life reading during her many lessons.

"Aye, please do," she replied, resting her head on her pillow. Fergus smiled and placed a hand fondly upon the cover of the tome. Elinor was aware that he had always had a special place in his heart for tales of bravery and legends that originated from the highlands, as did she. Though they had little else in common, their friendship was still strong. Elinor had always believed that opposites did indeed attract.

Fergus' eyes suddenly lit up, and he reached into his gunny sack yet again. "Eli, I have somethin' else for ye..." he said, reaching into his gunny sack and concealing something within his hand. Elinor raised her head and gazed into his aquamarine eyes. "This was goin' to be a present for yer, erm, birthday," he said, revealing a silver pendant to her. "But I'm thinkin' this is as good a time as any to give it to ye."

Fergus took her hand in his and placed the gift in her palm. She held up the necklace by the chain to examine it, and she noted that three bears were carved into the silver in a circular shape, giving the pendant a unique look. "I hope ye like it, Eli. My mum gave it to me. Sh-she told me to keep it and give it to a lass one day."

Fergus was taken aback when Elinor lunged at him, capturing him in a hug. He froze, unsure of what to say or do. She quickly let him out of her grasp, blushing fiercely.

"I... I don't know what to say, Fergus," she whispered, clutching it to her chest. "Th-thank ye... ever, _ever _so much."

Fergus nodded, offering her a charming smile. "Aye. I thought ye might like it." He smiled modestly as Elinor put on the necklace.

He gazed at her with concern, leaning in to observe her at a closer range. "Ye look a bit flushed, lass." He placed a hand upon her forehead, then placed his hand on his. "Ye're wee bit warm, too."

He began to remove his fur pelt, peeling it off and draping it over her shoulders. Elinor gazed at him for a moment, motionless, and mouthed the words _thank you. _Fergus chuckled somewhat nervously and placed a hand on the nape of his neck.

"It's a... it's a wee bit cool in here. Don't want ye to catch a chill, is all." He cleared his throat somewhat timorously as Elinor lay down on the bed once again, resting her head upon the plump pillow, all the while fondling the chain of the pendant around her neck.

"Go on, now, tell me the story of that bear," she encouraged, her lids beginning to become heavy. "What's his name, again?"

"Mor'du!" Fergus shouted enthusiastically, causing Elinor to jump. He grinned apologetically, cracking the book open. He began reading slowly and steadily, "For centuries, tales have been told again and again about a wicked, ma – mal..."

"Malicious." Elinor whispered immediately, as she'd heard this story time and again, though she never grew tired of it.

"...a wicked, malicious creature by the name of Mor'du." Fergus continued to read, even as he noticed Elinor begin to drift off, most assuredly beginning to dream of the adventures that her friend would one day go on. After the rising and falling of the princess's chest grew steady, Fergus closed the book and stared at the ceiling, listening intently to her breathing.

All of a sudden, he heard footsteps approaching, and he gasped, sliding off the bed and preparing for the worst.

"Elinor, ye'd better be in bed, lass." the queen's voice warned, the door suddenly bursting open. Margaret's mouth gaped at the sight of Fergus, and her trite set of eyes narrowed. "Ye wee devil, you!" she exclaimed, awakening Elinor from her slumber. "How did _you_ get up here?"

She quickly approached Fergus, snagging him by the kilt.

"Yer Majesty, I..."

"Silence!" she demanded, causing Fergus to flinch. "How _dare_ ye sneak into my daughter's room unannounced! Ye _did _sneak in, didn't ye?"

"Aye... I-I mean no! P-P-Please, Yer Highness, m'lady queen, I just w-wanted to visit E-Elinor!" he stammered, and the queen glared at him, her eyes still narrowed.

"He's tellin' the truth, Mum!" Elinor piped up, placing a hand appreciatively on Fergus' pelt.

Margaret scowled. "Get on with ye, then," she ordered harshly, noticing the grappling hook, "or I'll send ye out the way ye came."

Fergus quickly tucked his book into his gunny sack and hoisted it over his shoulder. The queen folded her arms impatiently, tapping her foot. Fergus bowed to Elinor, then proceeded to bow to the queen, who simply nodded and pointed to the door. He trudged to the door and left without a word, though he looked over his shoulder and smiled warmly at a grateful Elinor before closing the door behind him.

Queen Margaret locked the bedroom door and retreated to her daughter's bedside, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Lads will be lads." she sighed. "Now, m'dear, how are ye?" she asked, receiving a smile from Elinor.

"I'm feelin' much better, Mum." she replied. "Just a wee bit tired, that's all."

"I'm glad to hear that, dear." Margaret said, returning her smile and caressing her cheek gently. She then glanced at the flowers on the bedside table. "And these?" she asked, lightly touching them.

"Fergus brought them." Elinor stated, placing a hand upon her pendant and revealing it to her mother.

"M'goodness, dear, that's gorgeous!" the queen breathed. "Wherever did ye-"

"Fergus." Elinor interrupted, replying before her mother was finished. "He's a fine lad. Please, Mum, treat him as so."

The queen observed the gift the boy had given her daughter and sighed. "I suppose," she said, managing a smile. "I will _not_, however, tolerate his sneakin' into yer room through the window. Please, ask him to use the door." the queen requested, walking over to the window, tugging on the rope of the grappling hook, and pulling it up.

Elinor nodded in agreement. She _was _feeling better, and the company of Fergus was the best medicine she could possibly receive.


	2. Devotion

Devotion

_After hearing of Elinor's experience with her potential suitors, Fergus makes the decision to take matters into his own hands._**  
**

* * *

"I present to ye lads, my esteemed daughter," King Edwin boomed, grinning from ear to ear, "Princess Elinor of Macdonald. C'mon, dear."

The king beckoned the princess over, and she reluctantly obeyed, rising daintily from her seat and performing a modest curtsie to the group of onlooking males. One of them whistled approvingly, and Queen Margaret quickly linked arms with her husband, clearing her throat and placing her free hand upon her daughter's shoulder.

Elinor held a stoic expression, but Margaret was less than optimistic at her daughter's enthusiasm concerning the potential suitors.

"Aye, go on, Elinor. Greet these young men. They're all anxious to meet ye." she encouraged, darting her azure eyes anxiously to Edwin's.

The king shrugged, and Margaret shifted uncomfortably on the platform the royal family was perched upon. She patted her daughter several times on the back, indicating for her to step forward. Elinor timidly took a step forward, scanning the crowd for a familiar face. She turned her head and helplessly gazed at her mother, who signaled with her hand.

Elinor inhaled in faced the crowd once again, lacing her fingers together in front of her face.

"Erm... g-greetings." she stammered, shooting Margaret one last nervous glance before continuing with an exhale, "I... am the princess." She stated this matter-of-factly, freezing up when she spotted a particularly engrossed young man with dark, wavy, flowing locks. She shifted her weight on the platform before sighing. "I am to be... _betrothed..." _She choked on the last word, feeling tears beginning to glimmer at the corners of her amber eyes. "I-I am to be betrothed to one of ye..."

"Ye mean ye'll be belongin' to me, lass?" an older boy called out, running his hand over his spiky hair.

"There'll be none of that, Young Dingwall!" the king snapped, making an attempt to rush to his daughter's side. The queen held him back, quietly muttering to him in her effort to calm him down.

"Och, we all know that _my _son is goin' to be winning _that _prize!" one of the clan leaders scoffed, receiving a trite cursing from Young Dingwall. He simply rolled his eyes. "I hope ye'll be willin' to take on the name Lady MacGuffin, lassie!" he called out to Elinor, who closed her eyes and lowered her head.

Another leader piped up, "As soon as ye seal that marriage of yers in the bedchamber, ye're sure to be crownin' _my _son as yer king!"

The Clan Macintosh erupted with laughter, though Elinor, to say the least, did not react in the same way. Tears began cascading down her cheeks, and she hoisted up her skirts, turning on her heels and running out of the hall.

The king roared with anger, and the queen rushed up to the center of the platform, narrowing her eyes and shaking her head in disgust.

"Ye all should be _ashamed_ of yerselves!" she reprimanded, being joined by Edwin, who nodded in agreement.

"I want ye all _out!" _Edwin demanded, pointing a finger at the door. "All of ye! Get out of this castle, or I'll have ye escorted out the bloody door!"

Murmurs sounded from the clans, but they turned and left without a single bow of respect or apology to the king and queen.

"Elinor!" Margaret cried, scampering in the direction her daughter had run sobbing. The king remained standing, his feet firmly planted on the floor, until all of the visitors had exited and the guards had shut the enormous doors behind them.

* * *

Fergus grinned as his arrow pierced the target straight in the bullseye, drawing another arrow from his quiver. The thunderous pounding of hooves began approaching him, echoing throughout the small clearing of the glen. He turned to face the sound, his eyes brightening as he caught a glimpse of a sorrel Clydesdale coming into view, galloping into the clearing. The horse came to a halt, and its rider dismounted, falling to their knees and placing their hands upon their face.

"Elinor!" Fergus shouted, rushing to the girl's side while still clutching his arrow in his fist. He squatted down beside her, placing a hand upon her back. "What's wrong, lass?!" he asked, worry in his voice as he anxiously awaited his friend's response. Elinor slowly raised her head, wiping tears away from her cheeks. "Speak to me, Eli!" Fergus pressed, grabbing her hand.

"It was horrible, Fergus!" she exclaimed, rising to her feet with sudden vigor.

"What? _What_ was?" Fergus asked, following her example and standing.

"Those lads!" she replied sharply through her tears. "I'm to be _betrothed!_ I'm goin' to be won in a _contest!_ A _prize _is all I am!"

Fergus' mouth gaped as he seethed with rage. He suddenly gripped his arrow with both hands, snapping the weapon angrily. He tossed both pieces to the ground and turned away from the princess.

"I'll do it," he breathed, clenching his fists at his sides.

Elinor's quiet sobs silenced. Had she heard him correctly?

_"Wh-what?"_ she whispered incredulously, approaching him.

"I'm goin' to compete for..." he stopped short, turning around and cupping her face in his hands. "I'm goin' to have the _pleasure _of marryin' the princess." he finished, smiling warmly at her. "Ye can be sure of that."

The girl standing before him was speechless, not daring to resist him as he placed a hand on the nape of her neck, bringing her face closer to his. He lightly kissed her tear-stained cheek, and she briefly responded with a tight hug, breaking down again. As he released her from his grasp, her eyes locked with his, and she turned and returned to her horse, mounting her steed quickly and tearing off into the glen.

_Are ye delusional? Surely ye are. That lad is _Fergus, _your dearest friend. Ye couldn't possibly be in love with _him! _Oh, but ye are. Ye are, and ye know it. Ye always have been and ye always will be._

Elinor gasped and brought her horse to a halt when she caught a glimpse of a blue light out of the corner of her eye. She unconsciously cantered in the direction of the light, not being entirely sure of what she was doing.

"The wisps," she murmured to herself, and her horse gave a low nicker.

She inhaled incredulously as she realized what the wisps were leading her to, though she could barely believe her eyes. There on the horizon, was the land of the Clan DunBroch.


	3. Valor

Valor

_Fergus is willing to do anything to win the hand of his Elinor.  
_

* * *

"Grand day for a ride, isn't it, Annabel?" Elinor scoffed sarcastically, pulling the hood of her cloak farther over her head. Huge drops of rain poured down from the dark gray skies above, and the princess ducked beneath the lush trees for shelter. Of course, there was always the possibility of a strike of lightning, but Elinor was far too soaked to care.

Annabel nickered quietly, maneuvering carefully through the underbrush, her hooves caked with mud as they splashed through the thick, soaked earth. An early spring day that began with a bright, azure sky had quickly morphed into something much more intimidating. Fiercer weather was surely on its way, and the one thing on Elinor's mind was a book by the crackling fireplace.

Her cloak was becoming heavy in its drenched state, and the constant sopping of Annabel's hooves in the treacherous puddles of water was slowly driving the princess mad.

As her horse approached a clearing, the princess noticed a peculiar sound. She immediately caught a glimpse of a familiar face, the boy loosing one arrow after another into multiple targets.

"Fergus!" she called, lifting a hand in a wave. Fergus turned to face her, offering her the same greeting as she had done for him.

Elinor guided her horse into the clearing, dismounting and approaching her friend. She hadn't had the chance to see him since the day he professed that he would win her hand, at which point their friendship had developed a slight tension.

"How are ye?" he greeted, though his voice, which was normally much more gruff and enthusiastic, seemed much more fatigued.

Though she was apprehensive, some unseen force propelled her into his arms, resulting in an awkward yet comfortable hug. Elinor smiled while releasing a brief albeit delighted giggle, though she soon furrowed her brow, leaning back to lock eyes with him.

"Fergus, ye're chilled to the bone!" she observed, glancing at the light clothing he was clad in. "Whatever are ye doin' out in weather such as this?"

"Just testin' my skills," he replied coolly with a shrug, allowing her out of his grasp and slowly removing another arrow from his quiver.

Elinor darted her eyes to the scattered weapons that lay upon the moist blades of grass. Assorted hammers and swords darted the landscape around his feet. Fergus of DunBroch was naturally the type of boy that would be out in any kind of weather doing whatever he pleased, but this was rather extreme. Was he not uncomfortable?

He shuddered as he readied his bow, releasing yet another arrow. With a trembling hand, he lightly placed a hand upon his throat and produced a slight cough.

"Fergus," Elinor said, grasping her hood tightly as a brisk wind blew, "ye'll catch yer death if ye stay out here much longer!"

"I'm fine, lass," he insisted, lifting up a hammer. "Stand back, will ye?" Elinor took a few steps back despite her qualms. Fergus gripped the handle, spinning around several times before releasing the weapon from his hands. It soared through the air, landing on the ground with an audible _thud, _and Elinor could feel the vibration from where she stood. Fergus placed a hand upon his forehead with a low groan as he steadied himself.

"Fergus, ye don't look well." Elinor pressed anxiously. She touched his cheek, continuing, "Ye feel a wee bit feverish, too. Ye're comin' down with somethin' dreadful, I fear." Worry began to consume her, and Fergus brushed her hand away, gazing austerely at her.

"I'm not sick, Elinor!" he exclaimed, retrieving a sword from the ground. "Quit yer constant worryin'."

He suddenly charged at a small yet formidable nearby tree, slicing the blade of the sword into it. He continued his merciless attack with more brief, rapid strokes before finally slowing to a halt and dropping his sword on the ground, placing his hands upon his knees as he leaned down and began inhaling in giant gulps.

"This will never do. I'm not good enough..." he muttered under his breath. He gritted his teeth in frustration, and as he stood up, he began to feel an overwhelming amount of dizziness.

"I won't have ye catchin' pneumonia out here, Fergus." Elinor placed a hand upon his shoulder, but he quickly pulled away. "I can't let that happen."

"I can't give up!" he shouted petulantly, and Elinor glared at him.

"Ye certainly can when yer health is at risk!" she retorted, grabbing his arm. She grimaced as her palm came in contact with his skin. He was so _cold. _

Fergus returned her glare, and he felt as if her brown eyes were hammering into his head, though he secretly knew the pounding was a direct result of his reckless and stubborn determination. He released a sigh, and Elinor gently tugged his arm.

"Come." she said, leading him to her horse. "I assume ye walked out here?" she asked, receiving a nod from Fergus.

She shook her head in disapproval. How he wasn't burning up from fever already, she'd never know. She mounted Annabel and slid into the saddle, and Fergus followed her example.

"We can't leave without..." Fergus began, though he was interrupted by the princess.

"I'll send for someone to fetch 'em." Elinor responded quickly, bringing her horse to a steady canter. "Right now, my only priority is gettin' ye out of those wet clothes."

Fergus felt his face becoming hot, and he placed a hand upon his cheek. The undeniable warmth could have been from the possibility of fever, but he had a much more plausible explanation in mind.

Thunder crashed in the sky, causing Annabel to rear up on her hind legs out of fright. Fergus leaped from his seat, landing feet first on the ground, his boots sinking in to the mud. He cursed quietly under his breath as standing water squelched beneath his feet, but he managed to grab a tight hold of the reins, patting Annabel's neck in an effort to calm her down. The mare whinnied anxiously, but conformed to Fergus' request for solemnity. Annabel snorted a final time before a weary Fergus crawled back into the saddle.

"Let's go, then," Fergus panted, and Elinor encouraged her horse to proceed.

* * *

By the time the trio returned to the castle Macdonald, the sky had been rendered black, and hard drops of rain battered dozens of servants rushing to their quarters for shelter. A groom willingly accepted the reins from Elinor, and Fergus slid from the saddle, offering a hand to the princess. She graciously accepted, and slid out of the saddle. Elinor asked a guard to retrieve the young lord's weapons at his earliest convenience, and with a swift nod, he led the princess and her companion to the castle doors.

The queen met them at the door, wrapping her arms around her daughter in a hug.

"Elinor, yer father and I have been worried sick! We were about to send a search party lookin' for ye! Where on _earth_ have ye been?" The queen's blue eyes darted to the boy standing behind her daughter, clothes sopping wet and splattered with mud. "Greetings, young man." she said quietly, studying him.

Margaret approached Fergus, who cowered slightly. Had Elinor regaled her parents with his sudden determination to compete for her hand? He surely hoped not, and he was hesitant to ask his friend. He and the queen weren't on the friendliest of terms to begin with.

"Right, Fergus. I'm sure we can find ye somethin' suitable to change into. I won't have ye standin' there soaked to the skin."

Fergus took a step back. "I-I'm fine, really." he lied, as he was using all of his endurance to keep from shivering.

"Nonsense. Ye'll catch cold if ye don't change into somethin' proper and dry." Margaret said, calling for Edwin. The king turned the corner, presumably from his study, and looked Fergus up and down. She brought a hand to her chin, cocking her head slightly. "Do ye suppose we have somethin' that would fit him, Edwin?" Margaret inquired, beginning to circle Fergus intrusively. Her gaze quickly caused a blush to appear upon Fergus' face. The queen managed a slight smile, relaxing him.

"C'mon, lad. Come in and warm up." Edwin boomed, beckoning for him to follow.

Fergus swallowed and reluctantly joined the king and queen as Elinor smiled triumphantly at him with a wrinkle of her nose. He was far too weary to come up with a witty remark as the royals led him down the hall.

Elinor climbed the stairs in her ascent to her bedroom, changing into proper clothes herself. She quietly crept into her mother's private bower, rummaging through various drawers until she located the elusive, sumptuous ribbons her mother used to braid her hair during special occasions. After she cleaned herself up with minor grooming, she retreated to the great hall, meeting up with her mother in the process, who was carrying a silver tray with two chalices, each of them steaming invitingly.

"I thought the two of ye would enjoy this. It's dreadfully cold outside." She offered the tray to her daughter.

"Thank ye, Mum." Elinor said with a grin, accepting the offer. Margaret subtly indicated to the roaring fireplace, in front of which two chairs were situated. The queen offered her daughter a slight but cordial smile as she exited the hall, and Elinor began walking toward Fergus, who was curled up in a chair, wrapped in several quilts. His clothes hung in front of the hearth to dry, and Elinor sat down beside him, placing the tray on a small table.

"Ye didn't have to do this," he said quietly as Elinor prepared the beverages. She spooned honey into the two chalices, stirring them methodically.

"I certainly wasn't goin' to leave ye out there." she said as lightning flashed in the sky, being answered by a rumbling growl of thunder. "You tended to me when _I _was ill, I'm simply returnin' the favor." she replied, lifting one of the chalices and offering it to Fergus. "Tea with honey. Drink this, it will warm ye up."

"I'm not _ill_," Fergus retorted, staring at the chalice. "And _lads_ don't drink tea." he scoffed.

"Fine, ye're not ill," she sighed, "but ye should still drink this. I won't think any less of ye."

Fergus' eyes locked with hers, and she persistently held out the drink to him. He gave an exasperated groan as Elinor handed him the drink. She smoothed her dress as she returned to her seat, preparing her tea and bringing the chalice to her lips.

"I suppose ye're goin' to keep pesterin' me 'til I give in," Fergus sighed, glancing into the chalice on his lap.

Elinor nodded affirmatively as she continued to sip her tea, basking in the soothing warmth it provided. He hesitantly brought the chalice to his mouth, tipping it back and allowing the smooth liquid to trickle down his throat. Elinor smiled with satisfaction as her companion continued to gulp down his beverage, setting the empty container on the table. Several minutes of silence passed by before Elinor asked the question that had been on her mind.

"Fergus," she whispered.

"Aye?" he responded, hoisting a blanket farther up on his shoulders.

"Why were ye out there?"

"Huh?" he muttered, turning his head to glance at her, a puzzled expression plastered upon his face.

"Why would ye put yerself through that? Ye could've come down with somethin'." she reasoned, gazing at him sympathetically.

"I was practicin'." he said, fumbling with the oversized kilt he was being forced to wear.

"For what?" she pressed in a whisper.

"Nothin'." he snapped. "It doesn't matter now, anyway."

Elinor's confused expression slowly dissolved, her eyes brightening with sudden insight. "The contest..." she whispered, her voice wavering slightly with emotion. Fergus eyed her for a moment before he sighed wearily, nodding and lowering his head.

A moment later, he felt a pair of hands wriggle their way into his. Blushing fiercely, he locked his eyes with hers; clear cerulean met a rich amber.

"Fergus, ye're so stubborn, there's no way ye could lose. So I don't want ye out practicin' in the rain. Ye'll catch yer death of a cold, and then what will I do?"

"I have no choice, Eli. If I lose the contest, I lose _you." _

He turned a brighter shade of crimson out of embarrassment as Elinor gazed at him. His heart began to pump erratically, and he gave a sigh of relief when the king and queen entered the great hall.

"I've sent word to yer clan that you'll be stayin' with us tonight, lad." Edwin said as the royal couple approached the two.

Fergus craned his neck, turning around in the chair. The queen sported a suspicious expression as she studied him, and he quickly stood up, addressing Elinor's parents with a bow.

"I wouldn't want ye to lose a limb to that demon bear, now!" the king continued sarcastically, chuckling. "He prowls at night, ye know." He cleared his throat when he caught a glimpse of his wife's cold stare.

"I don't view that as a joking matter, Edwin." Margaret pointed out, awaiting his response with an austere tapping of her foot.

"'Course not, m'dear." he said apologetically, linking arms with his wife, who placed her hand upon his.

"Now, Elinor, my dear. Why don't ye head on up to yer bedchamber? It's gettin' awfully late." the queen suggested before mentioning to her husband, "I'll meet ye upstairs in a bit, beloved. I'd like to have a word with Fergus. Alone."

The young lord froze at his stance, locking his knees. Fear shivered down his spine, as any trouble with Queen Margaret was likely to get the best of you in the end. Edwin complied, pecking his wife's cheek. Elinor bid Fergus a good night before following her father out of the hall. Margaret laced her fingers together, simply gazing in Fergus' direction.

"A-aye, Yer Majesty?" Fergus stuttered, capturing the queen's gaze.

Her pale, blue eyes seemed to be in a battle with his, though only one pair of azure orbs could win this staring contest. He was preparing himself for the reprimanding of his life – though he didn't know the reason, he was expectant with anxious anticipation. It was inevitably to come. The queen paused for a moment before speaking.

"I know we haven't been on the best of terms." she began, observing Fergus' face twisting up in puzzlement. Where she was going with this, he had no clue. "But, when ye're in this castle..." she paused yet again, gathering her thoughts. "I want ye to know that ye're welcome here."

She cracked a smile, and the sick feeling in Fergus' stomach diminished.

"Thank ye ever so much, Yer Highness." he said, grinning at her. He coughed into his fist, and the queen's cordial expression quickly turned into one of concern.

"That's a dreadful cough ye have." she said, approaching him. She beckoned for him to follow her. "Come, I'll show ye to yer room. Some rest will do ye good."

Fergus trudged somewhat groggily behind the queen as she led him to his residence for the night. She turned the knob on a wooden door, swinging it open and revealing a small yet cozy bedroom.

"Please, make yerself comfortable." she said genially as Fergus plopped down on the bed.

"Thank ye again." Fergus said quietly. She turned to leave the room, though she stopped short at the door.

"Oh, and Fergus," she added, turning to face him a final time. "I wish ye the best of luck in the contest." She offered him a slight smile as she exited the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Fergus' mouth gaped, the young lord entirely entranced in his innermost thoughts. The torches in the hallway flickered in the darkness, resembling a bright omen lingering in the foreseeable future.


	4. Prevail

Prevail

_Fergus competes in the final event in the contest for Elinor's hand - but meets a truly worthy opponent in a battle of swords._

* * *

The silver, gleaming blades smashed against each other, their handlers each pushing with all their might. Fergus staggered backward, tightly gripping the handle of his sword in an irritated and distressed manner.

The young man before him grinned victoriously, twirling the sword in his hand.

"Och, ye've given up already, Fergus?" he said snidely, receiving a loathsome glare from his opponent.

"Ye would wish that, wouldn't ye?" Fergus retorted, lunging at his foe once again with renewed energy.

This time it was the foe who took a step back, gritting his teeth in frustration. His mouth morphed into a pleased grin as a chuckle emanated from him.

"Ye may be a dab hand at archery and throwin' wee little hammers," he said mockingly, "but this isn't a game, lad!"

His solid muscles bulged as he pumped his arms, slashing his sword at Fergus' with sheer hatred. "I'm goin' to chib ye good, Fergus. Be rid of ye once and for all." he growled with a sneer, swiping at Fergus' torso.

The blade sliced through the fabric of his tartan kilt, sending him sprawling backward. The princess' cry of his name echoed throughout the area, reverberating in the young lord's ears. He caught himself, perching atop the blades of grass.

"Fine, then! Be done with it, Clyde!" Fergus taunted his foe. "Slay me, will ye? Go on, ye coward!"

He glared viciously at Clyde, who, like Fergus, was panting heavily. Clyde flung his sword up above his head, and Fergus raised his in defense.

Elinor screamed his name again, and he caught a glimpse of her billowing, aquamarine dress out of the corner of his eye. She wistfully gazed upon him, frantically shouting at the persistent guards who refused to allow her to come to his aid.

Clyde's sword came down, the blades crashing into each other with a fierce, metallic sound. The dark-haired lad shoved his blade against his foe's, sending it soaring through the air.

"I pity ye, lad! A sword fight with a wee babby is fit for the likes of you!" Clyde snarled, snagging Fergus' kilt with the tip of his sword, aiming at his chest.

He squatted down in front of his opponent, his heavy breathing hitting Fergus like a hurricane. "Save yer strength and give up while ye've got the chance. That pretty wee prize is as good as mine."

Fergus immediately sensed rage boiling at his core, and while relying on sheer instincts, he grabbed the handle of his foe's sword and yanked it ferociously, allowing the sword to rip through his kilt once again, regaining his freedom in the process. No longer would he submit to any adversity. For Elinor's sake, he would prevail. Even if it cost his own life, he would be certain this undeserving scoundrel would not have the princess' hand, but rather be locked in her dungeon.

He scrambled to retrieve his sword, grasping it and swinging it through the air in broad strokes, the two weapons crashing together once again. The two young men continued to relentlessly slam their blades together, and with a single, determined stroke, Fergus deftly smashed his sword into Clyde's with an enraged bellow.

The weapon was sent flying through the air, landing yards away, and the lad's emerald eyes lost their fierce confidence. Fergus swiped the sword threateningly at his midsection, angrily taking his turn at slicing through his opponent's garment.

A moment of deadly silence passed, both lords inhaling and exhaling deeply and rapidly. A deep crimson substance began seeping through Clyde's kilt, and he glanced down upon his wound in shock. He gave a low growl, straightening his posture. He stormily retreated to the sidelines, being greeted by his clan, and the king and queen strode on to the field in his place.

"The winner, determined by myself and the queen, is Fergus of DunBroch." Edwin boomed proudly, placing a hand upon Fergus' shoulder. The young lord turned and bowed out of respect, receiving a nod from Margaret, who smiled warmly.

His clan stampeded on to the field, congratulating Fergus with eruptions of roaring laughter and cheers.

A frantic voice called his name, and the crowd quickly parted to allow the princess access to the epicenter. Elinor, her skirts flowing in the breeze, scampered towards him, cupping his face in her hands.

"Fergus, are ye alright? Are ye hurt?" she inquired anxiously, inspecting the tear in his kilt and other areas for wounds.

"I'm fine, Eli." he assured her, managing a smile.

"Thank goodness," she breathed. She took a step back, smiling at him with pride. He lifted up his sword, observing the blade.

"Didn't think I had it in me, did ye?" he boasted, tucking the weapon into his sheath.

The princess released a soft giggle, and a moment of silence passed before she suddenly lunged at him, pressing her lips firmly against his.

Fergus immediately turned a bright shade of red, though he returned the kiss, mustering what energy he had conserved during the contest of swords. She pulled back several seconds later, and he engulfed her in his arms.

"Ye have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, lad." she whispered as he toyed with her glossy locks.

He smiled sentimentally before giving his response.

"Aye, love. I think I do."


	5. Unexpected Guests

Unexpected Guests_  
_

_While spending some time with his betrothed, Fergus' pals pay him a visit, and he is less than thrilled when they start causing some unwelcome mischief._

* * *

"Och, ye weigh a ton, man!" a strained voice grunted. Fergus swiveled around from his seat near the window with an irritated sigh.

He hoped his initial assumption was wrong – that he had just imagined the voices that were emanating from outside. As he unlatched the window, a fresh, cool breeze coming in contact with his face as he peered outside, a hook was tossed in the air, gripping the stone edge of the castle.

The rope was tugged a few times, and one of the culprits began scaling the wall. Fergus placed a hand upon his forehead with a groan. He suddenly felt ashamed; had he been a burden to his dear Elinor whenever he entered her room in this manner?

"What are _you _lads doin' here?!" Fergus demanded, craning his neck to glare down at the people in question.

A stocky, plump lad, roughly his own age, panted in exhaustion as he gripped the rope, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead.

"Feel like givin' me a hand?" he wheezed, gazing pleadingly at Fergus.

With an exasperated groan, Fergus grabbed the corpulent lad's hands, flexing his arms as he tugged him through the window, which was barely wide enough to accommodate his stature. He wriggled pathetically, sliding through the opening and landing on the floor with an audible _thud. _He grinned sheepishly up at Fergus, whose blue eyes were held on his.

"What do ye want, Colin?" he asked, continuing to glare into the blond lad's eyes with suspicion.

He truly was puzzled as to why his companions were paying him a visit in the castle Macdonald, and though the two of his friends weren't the brightest, he figured they were competent enough to understand that the castle was usually off-limits to outsiders.

His friend picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off before turning and gazing down upon his cohort, who was obviously following Colin's example and climbing up to the window.

"Hey, now, that's not very kingly of ye, Fergus." the accomplice uttered, crawling up on the windowsill and smiling coolly. "Ye'd better work on that temper of yers, yer loyal subjects won't appreciate it."

The mocking remark left the boys chuckling, with the exception of Fergus.

"I haven't the time for either one of ye. If the queen catches ye in here..."

"I do believe that lass has rubbed off on ye, Ferg!" the second lad said from his perch. The two of them were quite the pair; one quite stout and robust, the other a bit shorter and extremely thin. "It's not like ye to fret so much."

"_Elinor,"_ Fergus corrected.

"What's that now?" the lad inquired, yawning.

"That lass' name is Elinor." The boy sprung from the sill, nodding knowingly.

"Aye, aye, Elspeth, I knew that." he said calmly, striding into the room. "I s'pose this is the princess' room?" he observed, sitting upon the bed. "Quaint."

He bounced upon the mattress, laughing in amusement, a suave grin plastered across his face. "Have ye ever been in this bed before, lad? Hm?"

"Roddy, I'm warnin' ye..." Fergus growled, being interrupted by Colin, who was curiously scampering about.

"I've never been in a lass' bedroom before," he marveled breathlessly, "except my mum's."

Roddy rose from the princess' bed, bouncing up and gaining thrust in the process, propelling himself to the large, expertly-crafted armoire residing in the room.

"Let's see what we've got in here," he said, swinging open the doors and rummaging through Elinor's assorted collection of gowns. Colin scrambled to his side, his eyes brightening with child-like wonder. He reached into the armoire, removing an article of clothing.

"Look, look!" he exclaimed, placing it upon his head. "What a fine hat!" Roddy snatched the garment from his head.

"Ye blitherin' idiot, it's a corset!" he snapped arrogantly. He held it up to his waist, glancing at it intently. "I don't think it's my style. What do ye think, Colin?"

He twirled around, and his companion erupted in laughter, doubling over and clutching his stomach.

Fergus stormed over to the chortling duo and ripped the corset from Roddy's grasp, determined to respect the privacy of his lady's undergarments. His eyes widened as he touched the fabric, holding it in his hands and admiring it for a brief moment before placing it back in the armoire and slamming the doors shut.

Roddy smiled pleasurably, raising a brow. "I do believe Fergus of DunBroch is blushin'."

Fergus felt his face quickly becoming warmer, and he pointed at the window.

"Out!" he snapped. Colin's laughter ceased, and Roddy furrowed his brow, his face falling in a frown.

"Och, Fergus, we were just havin' some fun." he assured him, holding up his hands in submission.

"'C-course, Fergus." Colin piped up, placing a hand on Fergus' shoulder. "We just came here to rescue ye."

Fergus shrugged his shoulder away from Colin's palm. "Don't need rescuin'," he mumbled. "B'sides, I can't be with ye today. Elinor..."

"It's always about her, Fergus!" Roddy huffed, folding his arms. "Ye spend all yer time with her, and ye've been neglectin' us!"

"I'm sorry, lads." he replied, gesturing at the window. "I might be able to catch up with ye later, but I suggest ye leave now. Ye know ye're not s'posed to be here."

"Where is the lovely lass anyway?" Roddy wondered aloud, striding to the door and creaking it open slightly.

Fergus clenched his fists and approached his so-called "friend", hearing Elinor's brogue emanating from the hallway. He drew a sharp inhale, grabbing Roddy by the shoulders and shoving him towards the window. Colin glanced at him helplessly, frozen at his stance.

"Och, what's all this about?" Roddy protested as he was forcefully pushed to the window.

"I won't have Elinor gettin' the wrong idea about ye bein' in her bedchamber." Fergus replied irritably, gaining a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he began to hear footsteps approaching. "There's no time," he groaned, glancing nervously at the door. "Hide."

The order did not need to be uttered twice, as his friends quickly obliged. Roddy slid under the bed, being accompanied by Colin.

"Find yer own hidin' spot, ye beast!" Roddy whispered sharply.

The door swung open as Elinor glided into the room, sporting a warm smile.

"Eli!" Fergus exclaimed, grinning enthusiastically.

"I'm sorry for makin' ye wait, Fergus." she apologized, furrowing her brow. "Ye look a bit pale. Anythin' wrong? Are ye alright?" she pressed.

"'Course!" he blurted rather squeakily, turning a shade of red. Elinor giggled before gesturing at her gown.

"This is the dress my mum wore on her wedding day." she mentioned, awaiting his response. "I do hope ye approve."

"It's gorgeous on ye, lass." he marveled, adding with a loving smile, "But that's nothin' out of the ordinary."

Elinor beamed as her suitor gathered her in his arms, placing a light, tender kiss upon her dainty nose. Roddy groaned in disgust, and the princess darted her head toward the sound. She glanced suspiciously at Fergus a final time before kneeling down beside her bed.

"What's all this?" she demanded, rising to her feet as the two boys clambered out from beneath the bed.

They both bowed several times, and Colin took Elinor's hand gently in his, planting a cordial kiss upon it. Fergus clenched his fists in a jealous rage.

"M'lady," he said quietly, bowing his head.

Elinor quickly withdrew her hand, spinning around to face Fergus, her eyes locked with his in a cold stare.

"Eli, ye have to believe me, I didn't have _anythin'_ to do with this!" he assured her frantically.

She folded her arms, unconvinced.

"It's true, Yer Highness," Roddy attested. "He got real unsettled while we were lookin' at yer corset, so he did."

Elinor's amber eyes widened like saucers, and Fergus glared at his friend with sheer, trite ferocity.

"B-but it wasn't his idea, Yer Majesty, I-I promise ye!" Colin stammered.

Elinor continued to frown, as she was modest by nature.

"Fergus, I'm sure ye know as well as I do that a marriage can't survive without trust..."

She began to feel her throat close up with sudden emotion, and it hurt to imagine what these lads must have been up to. The blatant betrayal of her betrothed was almost too much to bear.

"Eli, ye _have _to trust me. There's nothin' more that I want than to marry ye, and to be yer king and reign beside ye. Ye have to believe me. I'd never do anythin' to hurt ye."

Fergus turned a bright shade of red at his sudden speech, and his flushed face burned with embarrassment. He glanced at Roddy and Colin, and he was taken aback at their expressions. Stoic and void of emotion, they shifted their weight uncomfortably.

"A-aye. Ye... ye've got a fine lad, Princess. He adores ye." Roddy said quietly, breaking the silence. Fergus' face reddened further.

Elinor's eyes softened as she approached him. She caressed his face gently, and the young lord sighed in relief at her obvious acceptance of his rather lengthy apology. She kissed him briefly, and for the duration of the osculation, he smiled into her mouth.

Perhaps his bothersome acquaintances weren't entire pests, after all. In fact, they could be quite useful in some situations. He had finally summoned up the courage to declare what he'd been longing to say for so long, and he had been rewarded with the most euphoric, ecstatic feeling in the world.


	6. Desires

Desires

_The new royal couple finally submits to the urges of one another.  
_

* * *

**A/N: Ah, this delightful little vignette is the impetus for me to bump up the rating. Written upon request. Hehe, favorite/follow/review/enjoy!**

* * *

She could see the uncertainty in his eyes; the thought that he was hesitant over the matter at hand made her love for him grow even stronger.

Had she ever imagined that this moment would take place? This moment, this utterly _wonderful _moment, seemed like a heavenly dream. So soon after their union, Elinor was already prepared to seal their marriage with consummation, sharing with her new husband the epitome of affection, the most tender action any two people could partake in.

His hands placed firmly upon her waist, she gave him a nod, signifying for him to continue. As he hesitated with apparent reluctance, the ruddiness of his cheeks led her to believe that he was shying away from her, timid to run his hands along her form.

"Eli," he began, retracting his hands from her waist. "I-I'm... w-well, I," he stammered, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Why was he so reluctant to do this? He wanted to be with her, didn't he? Indeed, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to be the fortunate young man to act intimately with the voluptuous young woman standing before him. "Elinor, are ye sure ye want to do this? I-I don't want to force ye into anythin'. Maybe we should wait a wee bit..."

"Fergus, there is _nothing _I've ever been more certain about." she replied solemnly, gazing at him with a pair of yearning, amber eyes, a sight beheld by Fergus so seducing that it nearly caused him to lose control at that very moment.

He _had _to maintain his composure; the last thing he wanted to do was discourage her - to cause her any fear or distress over the subject of passion.

In the midst of his thoughts, he felt a pair of hands grasp his, and he noticed his Elinor was guiding his curious hands to her waist, where she placed them gently, leaning into him with an evident eagerness.

Fergus' blue eyes darted to their inviting bed, and he locked eyes with his wife's, swooping her off the floor and into his arms, retreating to the bed and setting her carefully down upon it. She sprawled herself out on the bed, beckoning him with her index finger and patting the empty space on the bed beside her.

His inhibitions quickly diminished, and without hesitation, he sat down beside her, grinning sheepishly as the mattress squeaked beneath his weight.

She gazed at him seductively, her amber orbs instilling him with a firm desire; the goings on occurring beneath the fabric of his kilt attested to his growing urges.

Elinor sat up suddenly, forcibly pulling him down on the bed and resting his head in her lap. She gingerly removed his gleaming metal helmet and placed it upon the nightstand.

He gazed at her in sheer infatuation with his endearing, blue eyes, and as she leaned down to kiss him upon his lips, her lengthy locks of hair tickling his face, he couldn't have been more delighted. He was suspended in a moment in time, savoring the taste of Elinor's royal lips. She pulled back after several seconds when oxygen became a necessity. Fergus felt a pleasant chill as his love ran her fingers through his curly hair, digging her fingernails lightly into his skin as she caressed his face.

"Elinor, ye're drivin' me mad." he groaned in an aching whisper, and the princess grinned in satisfaction.

"Am I, now?" she said cheekily, smirking at him in an endearing manner. "What do ye suppose we do about it?"

"I-I've an idea," he replied in a murmur, and Elinor's face brightened in a revelation.

"That's simply grand," she said encouragingly in a soft, smooth voice. She pressed the tip of her nose to his, adding in a whisper, "So have I." She sprawled out upon the mattress again, smiling as he gazed at her incredulously, as if he were questioning her motives. "I'm ready for ye, Fergus." she whispered, her seductive tone rousing her husband's desires even more so.

He placed his hands on either side of her, careful not to allow his gigantic form to crush her. Gently, he repeatedly pressed his lips to hers, pulling back ever so slightly in between breaths.

She gripped the fabric of his kilt with her hands, crashing his lips down upon hers with a force that astounded Fergus. He pulled away from her, and she furrowed her brow in confusion.

He smiled lustfully, rolling over on to his back and bringing her on top of him. Elinor's face appeared to suffuse with relieved anticipation. Fergus placed a hand upon her back, lightly grasping the soft material of her nightgown. She nodded quickly and encouragingly, her amber eyes brightening with excitement.

Allowing her husband to peel the nightgown from her body, she gasped as her bare chest came in contact with him, and it wasn't long before she was tugging fervently at his own clothing.

He was taken aback at her eagerness, and in addition, so was she. She instantly realized that she didn't merely_ want_ him, she_ needed _him. Her stomach fluttered with pleasure as he began to remove his clothes, darting her eyes back and forth from his face to his loins in a near maniacal fashion. After he had stripped down to his undergarments, she smiled, triumphant. Her eyes wandered downward, the amber orbs gleaming at the sight of her husband's noticeable bulge.

"Fergus," she whispered. He placed his hands upon her back, sensually rubbing her soft skin. He planted a kiss upon her neck, and less than a single beat of silence passed before she blurted the words Fergus longed to hear: _"I love you." _

She crashed her lips to his once more, their lustful passion igniting.


	7. Beside You

Beside You

_The final moments of passion after Fergus and Elinor's royal *ahem* consummation. _

* * *

Their eyes met – Elinor went weak at the knees at the glorious sight before her.

His massive form trembled slightly, and he appeared to be unable to catch his breath, though his blue eyes twinkled with sheer ecstasy. She was breathless as well, her heart pumping erratically.

Though Fergus often bragged to his mates that he was, in fact, "above average", he was unable to speak, let alone boast at the moment (excluding the occasional, low moan), as his mouth was preoccupied with kissing every delicious inch of _his _Elinor, taking pride in the satisfaction he was providing her while savoring the pleasurable friction their bodies created.

A proud grin crept across his face as a slight noise emanated from her, beginning soft and nearly inaudible and slowly climbing into a crescendo. She drew a short gasp, and he furrowed his brow with worry, planting a soft kiss upon her lips in an effort to soothe her and assure his love that he would not accept having her experience any discomfort.

"I'm not hurtin' ye, am I?" he asked with concern, and his wife shook her head vigorously.

"N-no," she replied in a breathless whisper, a smile spreading across her face. "I-I'm fine, darling. No, ye couldn't possibly hurt me." He carefully hovered his form above her, freezing and locking eyes with her as she began to breathe deeply. She gasped anxiously, "Don't stop. Th-this is wonderful, Fergus."

She wrapped his arms around his neck, toying with his hair with her fingers in a dreamily content manner. He kept his weight off of her, propping himself up with his strong hands for fear of applying too much of his weight upon her lithe form.

As her chest rose and fell sporadically with heavy breaths, he chuckled and kissed her face amorously, not leaving a single patch of skin untouched – her forehead, her jawline, her nose – every spot of her form begged to be kissed; how could he bear to neglect any part of her?

As his mouth lunged for her inviting neck, she pulled him down upon her once more, crushing her lips to his. He continued to prop himself up; he could not afford to harm his bride. If he allowed her to suffer for a mere second, he would abhor himself for it.

Elinor released a pleasured noise once more, inhaling sharply and proceeding to release a near deafening, gasping, joyful cry of his name. At this melodious sound, Fergus achieved his own climax seconds later, and locked eyes with his wife, both of the gorgeous amber orbs filled with a certain joyful excitement that made his heart soar with adoration.

Her face quickly flushed crimson, a scarlet-tinged blush becoming conspicuous upon her cheeks.

"P-please excuse me," she said quietly and apologetically, severely embarrassed at the uproarious outcry that had just escaped her lips. Royalty, she reminded herself, strove to avoid such a display. Her mother constantly reminded her to be a proper lady at all costs, and to maintain her etiquette as such. She was responded to with a loving nuzzle as Fergus touched his nose to hers.

"Is that a blush I see, darlin'?" he chuckled, gently stroking her face with the back of his hand. She hastily shook her head, turning away from him as her face began to become uncomfortably warm. Her husband, however, was persistent as ever, and he grasped her chin in his hand with much trepidation as he hovered over her, gently turning her head to face him so he could admire her rosy cheeks. "Aye, my Eli is blushin', I'm sure of that." Her cheeks reddened further as he placed a tender kiss upon neck, lightly yet sensually. "Ye've no need to be modest, love." he said gently, coaxing her out of her timid nature. "We're husband and wife now."

He dove for her neck a final time, receiving a surprised albeit delighted giggle from his wife as the remnants of pleasure continued to consume the ecstatic and thoroughly satisfied couple.

Before he carefully assumed his position beside her, he used extreme caution for fear of causing her any pain. Elinor's amber eyes locked with his blue ones, following his gaze as he rolled over on to his back, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Her strands of chestnut hair pooled on to the numerous pillows, spilling on to her husband as the locks flowed freely. He ran his fingers mindlessly though his wife's hair as she gathered her composure.

"I'm guessin' I did good, then? Did I, Elinor?" he inquired eagerly, the pride already going to his head. Elinor turned her head and smirked at him, reaching out a hand and neatening the unkempt curls upon his head.

"_Well," _she corrected, her mouth curving into a smile as his smug expression morphed into puzzlement. "Ye did _well." _

"Did I, now?" he mused aloud, returning her grin.

"As a matter of fact, I'd say ye're above average in that regard." she affirmed, drawing a short gasp as the words left her mouth. Fergus' grin widened in amusement at her statement. "N-not that _I _would know otherwise! That is to say, erm..."

Fergus quirked a brow at his stammering, flustered Elinor, failing to hold in the laugh that threatened to escape. He chuckled immaturely, clearing his throat when Elinor narrowed her eyes.

"Alright, Eli," he conceded, "I'm sorry, love."

He released a final, soft chuckle before wrapping his arms tenderly around her form and planting soft, gentle kisses upon her neck in an attempt to appease her. He placed a hand upon her chest, feeling her heart beat steadily in her bosom as she took deep, heavy breaths in an effort to lower her tenacious, speeding heart rate.

Proceeding to cup his face in her hands, she lustfully pressed her lips to his, evidently accepting his apology. She pulled back at the need for more oxygen, devouring it in huge, unladylike gulps and beaming as he planted extra kisses in various places upon her face.

"Fergus, I've never been happier in my entire life. I want ye to know that, my darling." she whispered, her amber eyes glinting in the fading candlelight.

"Nor I." he replied, tenderly kissing her nose.

She couldn't suppress the smile that her mouth threatened to curve into as he showered her with the affection that only he could provide. He moaned contentedly as she kissed his chest, returning his tenderness.

"What you and I just shared..." she whispered, closing her eyes, "I've never... experienced anythin' so wonderful... in... my entire life."

Her voice drifted off, and as she snuggled close to him, Fergus placed a hand upon her silky head of chestnut hair. She was all his. The lass he'd always adored - she was finally all his.


	8. Reunited

Reunited

_After Queen Elinor is returned to her human state, the king and queen spend some time just being beside each other._

* * *

**A/N: So I've decided that I have way too many ideas rolling around to keep every one-shot in chronological order, so this obviously takes place after the curse is lifted. Enjoy, everyone!**

* * *

Home. Home was where both of them had longed to be. And now, the king and queen were together once again, reunited, and displaying their love for one another as husband and wife.

Her chestnut tresses were gently fondled by his expertly chiseled hands, and she responded to his affection with a low whisper of his name as she placed her hands upon his face, caressing his cheeks and allowing her curious, delicate fingers to explore his curled locks.

His blue eyes settled upon the remnants of earth still caking her skin in various places, and he filled his nose with her scent, which continuously reminded him very much of the Highlands.

Though he had offered to draw a bath for her soon after they arrived home, she rejected his offer, simply wishing to make up for the time she and Fergus were apart, as she couldn't recollect the last night that they had spent away from each other, aside from the times when he went off to battle the northern invaders. Without questioning her, he had willingly swept her off her feet and delivered her to the infirmary to be examined. After the queen's condition had been addressed, the king had carried her to their bedchamber, placing her gently upon their bed and securely locking the door to be assured they would not be disturbed while they were becoming reacquainted with one another.

As soon as the tapestry had been removed from her body, granting her husband's excited eyes access to her entire form, his heart had wrenched at the sight he beheld. It had been his sole priority to get her back to the castle before she caught a cold or something far worse, a prospect the king didn't wish to ponder about. It was inherent in his nature to preserve the health and well-being of his family, his queen in particular, and though he normally savored the view of her unguarded form, the moment his eyes fell upon the extent of his Elinor's injuries, he blatantly wished that her body was shielded from his sight at that very moment.

Now, she lay at his side, slightly lethargic yet begging for his touch. Allowing his curious eyes to skim down his queen's inviting body, the king's orbs lost their childlike enthusiasm and softened as he studied the innumerable bruises peppering her flesh, varying from light and developing to dark and excruciating. He grimaced, nearly being able to feel the pain she was experiencing and overflowing with sympathy for his love.

With cautious trepidation, he laid a gentle hand upon one of his wife's wounds. Her small body produced a tortured moan as a wave of pain bolted through her being, an agonizing sound that echoed in the king's ears.

"No, Fergus, please." she whimpered, instantly grasping his hand with a forceful grip. "Let it alone."

Fergus raised his head to gaze apologetically into his wife's limpid, teary amber eyes, and she managed a subtle, slight smile despite her discomfort. The king nodded slowly, despite the concern he harbored for his bride.

Although she had been inspected in the infirmary, Fergus had doubts of the medic's thoroughness. She had simply been ordered to indulge in plenty of rest, but Fergus believed she needed to be cared for with the utmost tenderness. In the medic's defense, he had not allowed the professional on duty, who happened to be a male, strip the tapestry from the queen's shoulders. He would never allow another man's eyes to behold such a display of his wife in all her modesty.

"Do ye need anythin' darlin'?" he inquired gently as he was released from his thoughts, touching her velvet cheek. He proceeded to whisper, "I'll call the medic for ye. Although I may need to leave the room to avoid causin' him harm..." His blue eyes darted to the door, reassuring himself that it was indeed locked.

"No, dear. Just... if ye don't mind..." she whispered, trembling as she succumbed to the chill of their bedchamber, "w-would ye simply hold me?"

The king's heart swelled with adoration for the woman before him. She slowly began to inch closer to her husband, and Fergus immediately bunched and gathered the quilts sprawled among their bed in his arms, draping the layers over his wife while proceeding to engulf her in his arms.

As the ineffable warmth her husband radiated washed over the fatigued monarch, she gave a sigh of contentment, at ease.

"There now, love. Ye just rest, now." he crooned, his voice unusually lacking its gruffness.

"Aye..." the queen replied absentmindedly, drifting into a deep slumber. Fergus placed a gentle kiss upon her head, embracing her with a soothing hum.

Oh, but he had so many questions to ask her.

"Eli, what was..." He hesitated, afraid of touching upon a sensitive topic for his queen. "What was it like bein' a bear?"

"Fergus, I've never experienced anything so frightening or refreshing in my entire life." she murmured, clinging to him possessively.

He quirked a brow and opened his mouth to speak, but the queen cut him off with a kiss, stroking the scruff on his chin with her hand.

"Hush, now, and perhaps I'll have enough energy later on for what ye're really hopin' for." She offered him a demure smile before pleasuring him with another display of affection.


	9. At Long Last

At Long Last

_The king shows his queen just how much he loves her when they share a touching, passionate moment after the spell is broken.  
_

* * *

As she revealed herself to him, the amorous gaze he had been sporting darted downward, resting upon her body. The towel wrapped around her lithe form had been shed, and now lay at her ankles.

Although the queen felt a nearly overwhelming urge to shield her femininity from her husband's now eager eyes, she restrained herself, as she knew, deep within her heart, that she wanted, more than anything, exactly what her king also inevitably hungered for.

She glanced down to avoid his gaze as her face became uncomfortably warm, a smile creeping across her face as she did so. Feet. She had feet once more. Not to mention hands - normal, human extremities that all women possessed. She curled her toes in the growing puddle on the floor, undoubtedly caused by her dripping, chestnut tresses.

Overjoyed at the prospect of being a human again, and of what was surely to come within the following moments, she averted her gaze back upward, coming face to face with her husband. He placed his hands upon her waist and allowed them to inch down her curves, chuckling warmly as the queen's cheeks began to become all the more scarlet.

"Fergus," she whispered with a slight giggle.

No matter how many times the royal couple engaged in their acts of affection, she most always experienced severe modesty. It was what she, herself, referred to as a terrible habit. While her triplet boys often played with their food, chewed with their mouths wide open, and caused harrowing mischief day and night, and her daughter often rebelled and displayed her outspokenness blatantly, Elinor had the habit of granting her husband the satisfaction that he longed for – one gift that she never wished to beseech him.

The king pressed his forehead to hers and raised her chin gently, murmuring quietly, "I finally have ye alone... all to myself."

"My, aren't we a wee tad selfish?" Elinor observed, taking a step towards him and smiling playfully.

The king swept her off her feet with ease, placing her gently upon the bed and toppling down beside her. He removed his helmet and placed it upon the nightstand, all the while grinning boyishly.

And then he simply observed her, biding his time. He didn't wish to come on too strongly for fear of becoming too rough for his queen's tastes.

"Elinor, I don't want to force ye to do anythin' ye're not comfortable with." he said tenderly, gently taking her hand in his. "I'll wait as long as ye need. Forever, if I must. I just... want ye beside me. I thought I'd lost ye, Eli." His expression softened further as his queen gave a tearful laugh, and he reached out a hand, brushing away a rivulet cascading down her cheek. "I love ye so much, darlin'."

"Oh, Fergus," she replied, her voice quavering with sudden emotion, "my darling."

The king gently placed his hand upon the nape of the queen's neck, drawing her closer. She had no intention of resisting him, and she sighed with delight as he pressed his lips to hers, savoring the heavenly contact.

He placed her gently upon her back and hovered over her, both of his hands sturdily rooted on either side of her body, his muscular build shielding her from the outside world. His attention and affections were entirely focused on her, and for the first time in days, or perhaps _years_, she was instilled with a tranquil feeling of complete solace and utter joy. As he planted gentle kisses upon her face, she closed her eyes in contentment and draped her arms over his broad shoulders, lacing her fingers together and cradling the back of his head in her hands.

As the king leaned in close, whispering affectionate phrases to her, he allowed his mustache to tickle her ear, and a surprised albeit joyful laugh arose from Elinor. Her husband paused, and, after pecking her cheek a final time, retracted his lips.

"Now, what was that, love? Hm? 'A lady does _not _chortle'." Fergus stated, reciting his wife's words exactly as they had escaped her lips.

"I believe she does have a right to if her husband's mustache," she replied with a soft, warmhearted chuckle, touching the scruff on his chin with her delicate hand and gliding it upward, "is the cause of it."

As she gently caressed his chiseled features, her amber eyes shimmered in the evening sunlight in an adoring gaze, which was fixated upon her love. The man's tender expression faded and was replaced with a newly-donned, mischievous expression. His wife's amber orbs filled with confusion.

"Oh, she does, does she?" he mused, gingerly brushing back one of the queen's dampened locks and tucking it behind her ear. She glanced at him in confusion, her eyes widening as she experienced her revelation. He offered her a devilish grin before lurching his head forward and ravenously showering her neck with affection.

"Oh, no, no!" she squeaked shrilly. A melodious laugh escaped her, and the king proceeded to engulf her in his arms, rolling over on to his back and resting her upon his chest, being instilled with a sense of relief as he was assured he would not injure her.

She was so miniscule in his arms, and for such a petite woman, her joyous, audible laughter was music to his ears – a sweet serenade. He couldn't recall the last time his wife let her hair down and _laughed. _He hadn't truly taken note of how sweet and wonderful her laughter was (nor had he fully recognized her evident ticklishness, an advantage for which he would surely find a way to put to good use).

He'd been taking her for granted. From this day forward, he would strive even more to make her feel like the most gorgeous lass in the world, although she most assuredly already held the position. She was far more vulnerable than she let on; though she was the strongest and most dignified woman he'd ever had the pleasure of loving or knowing, she seldom allowed anyone to offer her aid. She, like the king, was far too proud.

His azure eyes locked with her amber; he kissed her lips lightly and gently, but the osculation in no way lacked passion. Elinor pressed her nose to his and nuzzled his face gently with a sigh of contentment. Quickly and shyly with widened, amber eyes, she turned her face away from him, feeling her cheeks become heated with shame. Fergus gently grasped her chin so she was facing him once more. He kissed away a tear rolling down her cheek. Though she had attempted to wash away her ursine essence, it was evident that her bear counterpart was still very much a part of her, and always would be.

"F-Fergus," she whimpered, "Oh, Fergus. I-I..."

"Elinor, I would love this hand even if it was a paw," Fergus said, taking her hand in his and kissing her palm. "And yer nose, and yer smile, and those big brown eyes of yers."

He touched his forehead to hers as the corners of her mouth curved into a smile. Though she was smiling, copious tears flowed; Fergus chuckled and tenderly kissed her forehead, running his fingers through her long, silky tresses.

"Fergus," Elinor whispered urgently, bunching his kilt in her fists, "I-I want ye. I _need _ye." She laughed tearfully before slowly coming into contact with his lips.

King Fergus smiled during the passionate osculation, and, knowing he was nearly ready for her, his heart skipped a beat. At long last, they were physically showing their love for one another. The royal couple would forever be known as King Fergus and Queen Elinor, the Bear King and Bear _Queen_.


	10. Loved

Loved

_The king and queen __anxiously await the birth of their second heir._

* * *

**A/N: In celebration of the release of my favorite movie tomorrow, I'm uploading just in time! Enjoy! Expect more in the coming days!**

* * *

The princess watched her lecturing mother with unamused, blue eyes, beginning to mindlessly doodle upon her parchment paper with her quill. Merida dipped it in her ink well and swiped it across the page with swift strokes, making an outline of her beloved horse as she daydreamed.

She wished with every fiber of her being that she could be soaring through the highlands on Angus' back, honing her skills in archery. She was so close to being able to hit every single target her father had scattered about the Highlands for her; oh, she could hardly wait to feel the wind at her back, whipping through her fiery hair.

Elinor was, truthfully, quite exhausted, and she placed a delicate hand underneath her swollen stomach, rubbing it gently.

The arrival of her child was imminent, and the baby, although she felt a natural, motherly connection, was beginning to wear on her. She was undeniably sore from head to toe; it seemed as if the symptoms of her pregnancy would never cease. It certainly was taking its toll on her and her royal duties.

Her amber eyes darted to her daughter, who was busily working on her drawing, she slowly hobbled over to the desk, sliding the paper into her hand.

"Merida, a princess shan't doodle." she stated irritably, observing Merida's artwork and placing it back upon the desk.

"Mum," Merida whined, "Just this once, can't I..."

"No, dear, not 'til we finish yer lesson for the day. Then, ye can ride Angus to yer heart's content." her mother interrupted, raising her hands up and massaging her temples wearily.

The princess chewed her lip in an attempt to hide the grin threatening to spread across her face, and she quickly picked up the tome laid upon her desk, burying her nose in it in an effort to conceal her giddiness.

Of course, she loved her mother with all her heart, and would never wish any discomfort upon her, but any excuse for her lesson to be either postponed or canceled would be extremely welcomed, indeed.

"Oh, Mother. Ye don't look well a'tall." she observed with concern, not bothering to look up from the book.

Elinor turned her head to look at her daughter, her expression quickly becoming emotionless.

As if he were a Godsend, the king entered the room with boundless energy, approaching his lasses.

"Such a grand day it is, aye?" Fergus sang, striding over to his daughter and kissing her upon her head, burying his face in her fiery locks.

"Hello, Dad." Merida giggled as her father kissed her forehead.

"Mornin', m'wee darlin'!" he greeted cheerfully, enveloping her in his arms from behind. "I would'a thought ye'd be out ridin' yer stallion on a day such as this," he observed, adding, "but I see yer Mum has made other arrangements."

He glanced up with a chuckle, eying his wife with a smirk. She slightly returned his grin, placing her hands upon her hips with a slow shake of her head.

"Oh, but look at her, Dad!" Merida cried, hugging her father's arms. "Mum's not well."

Fergus' blue eyes immediately averted upward to his wife, and he released his daughter from his embrace and approached his queen, placing his hands over hers and protectively caressing the swell of her hips.

He had a bothersome urge to shower her with unabated affection at that very moment, but he restrained himself, knowing his wife and daughter both would be made quite uncomfortable by his display.

"Is this true, Elinor?" he asked, furrowing his brow with worry. The king certainly didn't expect his love to admit to her ailment, but if he developed any suspicion whatsoever, he would not allow the queen to continue with this charade.

"Of course not, Fergus. I'm just feelin' a bit fatigued. This wee devil never seems to calm down." Elinor sighed, squeaking and placing a hand upon her stomach as it fluttered with a strong kick. Fergus planted his hands gently upon his wife's stomach, massaging the fabric of her flowing, golden gown.

"Come now, darlin'. I'll take care of the rest of Merida's lesson." he said, linking arms with the queen, whose face suffused with a glowing relief.

"Fergus, ye're such a dear." she said with a contented sigh, smiling warmly at her husband and placing her hand upon his.

"Think nothin' of it, love." he said, pecking her cheek. "Just focus on restin', Eli."

He turned his head and winked at his daughter, who stifled a giggle.

* * *

The king retreated to his bedchamber, anxiously awaiting the private moment he would experience with his gorgeous, brown-eyed lass. He was determined to make her feel beautiful, as indeed she was. Over the past few months, she'd grown increasingly aware of her figure, as she constantly had to have her wardrobe revised again and again, often getting pricked with needles in the process every time her gowns were adjusted. He felt terribly sorry for her.

As he creaked open the door and peeped through the crack, he spotted his queen reclined upon their bed, her chestnut tresses tied back in intricate braids. With a grin, he pushed the door open, and their eyes met with amorous glances. He entered the room and retreated to their bed, beginning to plant tender kisses upon her neck. The queen giggled and placed the book she was reading in her lap, caressing his face with a gentle hand.

"Good afternoon to you, as well, m'dear." she crooned, allowing the tome in her lap to fall to the floor as she rolled over, guiding his lips to hers. As she deepened the osculation, the queen came to the realization of what was going on between her and her husband, and she pulled back. "Fergus, we can't be doin' this. Suppose Merida comes lookin' for one of us?"

"She's out with Angus, love. She won't be back 'til much, much later." he assured her, placing a kiss upon her nose.

"I do hope ye finished her lesson properly." she added, eying her husband suspiciously as the king responded with a nod.

"'Course I did, Elinor." he said quietly, kissing her cheek. He had finished Merida's lesson; although he may have been negligent in confiding in his wife of what sorts of topics were discussed _during _that time.

She managed a slight smile, drawing a short gasp before grasping his hand and placing it upon her stomach as their child reminded its parents it was lacking attention, making its presence known with a powerful kick.

Fergus' blue eyes widened to an ineffable circumference, and his mouth curved into a joyous smile. He inched closer to his queen, wrapping his arms around her wide form. Nuzzling her face affectionately with his face and taking pride in the calm sigh she emitted, he allowed his hand to wander to her protruding stomach, the haven where their new baby surely slumbered. Gently, he massaged her swollen stomach with the utmost caution, rubbing her protrusion in slow circles.

She slowly allowed her head to rest upon his shoulder as she rested her hand on top of his. Fergus lifted his hand and caressed the opposite side of her face, sliding it down once more and gently squeezing her thigh. A warm chuckle arose from her in response to his actions, and she lifted her head once more, gazing into his eyes.

"What's gotten into ye, Fergus?" she inquired in a whisper, leaning back invitingly upon her pillow with an enamored smile as he leaned in and kissed her neck.

"I just love ye, that's all." he replied in a soft tone between kisses, subtly snaking his arms under hers and placing his hands upon her back as he began to fumble with her gown.

To his joy, she reached back her own arms, aiding him in slipping off her gown, all the while smiling at his lack of experience regarding feminine articles of clothing. She smiled as he gingerly helped her out of her gown, as she had limited mobility what with the extra weight she was carrying along with her.

He gently grasped one of her feet, which appeared miniscule in his large hands, and tenderly removed her slipper. He gingerly pulled off her other slipper, and assumed his position, hovering over her with a smile on his face.

His wife's eyes widened, and she gazed up at the top of their canopy bed, pursing her lips and exhaling with several deep breaths. The king brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, cupping his hand over her cheek.

"Th-this one's a strong wee thing." she squeaked, excitement brimming in the tone of her Scottish brogue.

Fergus placed a hand upon his wife's bare stomach, rubbing the swollen bulge gently. He felt their creation kick once more, and he suffused with pride, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"So it is, Eli. Seems as if there's more than just one in there." he chuckled warmly, overflowing with love for the woman carrying his child, or, quite possibly, children.

"Oh, goodness, no." she said quickly. "We mustn't hope for that, Fergus."

Fergus' face fell, replying, "Why not, darlin'? Havin' more wee babbies would be grand."

"Oh, of course it would be, dear. It would be wonderful. It's just..." she trailed off, and he retreated to her side, all the while rubbing her stomach lovingly.

"What is it, m'darlin'?" he asked, concerned. "Dear, I'll be by yer side the entire time, I promise ye that. Ye'll be beggin' to be rid of me."

Fergus understood the pain she had to endure during childbirth, and he would be there for her, holding her hand and remaining by her side for as long as she needed him – perhaps even longer.

He grinned, burying his face in her neck and embracing her wholeheartedly. She turned her head to smile at him, caressing his head with her hand.

"Oh, no, Fergus. That's not it. I'm just afraid, well... suppose if, as the queen, I won't have time to care for another child properly?" she sighed, averting her limpid, amber eyes back to the top of their canopy bed.

"Elinor, our wee Merida is a handful, but ye're a natural at bein' a mother." he assured her, giving her some more affection, the kind that only he could provide. She sighed contentedly as her husband embraced her in an impenetrable hug, flushing crimson as he allowed a hand to wander downward. He caressed her blushing cheeks, and gave a soft laugh, touching her forehead to his. "Now, let _me _take care of _you. _Please, Eli?"

She cupped his face in her hands, kissing him lustfully as she accepted his offer. He couldn't help but smile into their kiss. The fact that his queen was keeping another one of his children safe and sound made him love her all the more. He reclaimed his position over her, paying mind to their child resting just beneath him.


	11. A Shared Bed

A Shared Bed

_Fergus visits his queen while she's feeling ill._

* * *

Never before had the queen been rendered so incapable of ruling her kingdom. As she lay cocooned in layers upon layers of quilts and coverlets, she couldn't help but allow her mind to wander, and shortly afterward she began fretting over what chaos her husband was surely causing while he filled in for her.

Yes, she was feeling terribly under the weather, though she abhorred admitting her illness to him at first. Much like her king, the queen she was much to proud to show the weakness she was undeniably facing at the moment.

She had insisted to him many times over that she was completely fine and well. Naturally, every symptom she happened to show (no matter how fervently she tried to conceal them), aided in alerting King Fergus to her obvious ailment.

In the end, she had easily come to realize that she had no chance of swaying her husband's opinion by voicing hers (her extremely hoarse one, at that). And so, he had taken the liberty of performing all of her queenly duties for the day.

Elinor rolled over in bed with a muffled cough, sighing. It certainly was dull to spend the entire day doing nothing but feeling completely and utterly useless. Perhaps she could read; that always soothed her.

She hastily sat up in bed, immediately sensing another symptom looming over her. Elinor brought a hand up to her forehead as it began to pound, and with a groan she rested her head on the pillow once more. Her palm burned at the heat being emitted from her, and she allowed it to drop to her side. She moaned in distress, rolling over in an effort to get comfortable. It seemed as if she'd been tossing and turning nonstop, and truly she was growing quite weary of it. She rested her cheek upon her feathery pillow, sighing as her flushed skin became soothed at the coolness of the fabric.

Just as she was about to drift into a delirious slumber, a sudden noise jolted her awake. Elinor darted her amber eyes to the window, the obvious source of the sound. She watched incredulously as her faithful husband pulled himself through the window, smiling sentimentally. His antics amused her so.

"Flowers for m'lady?" he said gently, revealing a handful of poppies from behind his back. The queen gazed at him lovingly as he placed them upon her bedside table.

"You and that grapplin' hook, hm?" she chuckled warmly, reaching a hand out to her king. Fergus certainly had a reputation for making notable entrances, not to mention also being able to perform daring feats. He instantly grinned charmingly at her.

"What do ye expect, love?" he asked rhetorically, bringing her hand up to his face and kissing her palm with unabated affection. She offered him a weak smile, bringing her other hand up to her forehead with a soft sound of distress. His blue orbs, in response to this, grew distressed as well. "Eli, are ye alright?"

The corners of the queen's mouth curved upward at her king's concern for her. "Of course, dear," she lied, and her husband gently placed her hand upon their mattress. He retreated to his side of the bed, taking his place by her side.

"Don't ye try to hide it, now," he warned. Elinor's face twisted up in puzzlement.

"H-hide what? Whatever are ye speakin' of?"

The king studied her knowingly, placing his hand upon her face in a gentle and loving caress. He flinched at the warmth being emitted from his queen's crimson visage. She may try to pull the wool over his eyes, but he knew better.

Elinor's expressive, brown eyes, which were normally bright and alert, were weary and tired, lacking the gorgeous sheen Fergus had grown accustomed to. Her hair was mussed and disheveled; she hadn't taken the time to tend to it that morning, as she had been feeling much too ill, and if she ever happened to shirk that particular duty on any other day, her tresses could easily become as wild and tangled as Merida's. Perhaps most unsettling of all the king's observations, his love's skin blazed with fever, a fierce heat radiating from her core.

"Eli," he said gently, leaning in to kiss the queen's burning forehead. She sighed, knowing she'd lost the battle. "Now," he said, placing a hand upon her waist, "is there anythin' I can do for ye? Anythin' ye need?"

"Not presently," Elinor replied with a dainty sniff. "Thank you, dear."

Fergus gently coaxed her closer and he brought her in for an embrace with his muscular arms, instilling Elinor with a sense of utmost security.

"What's m'lass been up to on this fine day?" he asked, taking satisfaction in his wife's contented sigh. When she failed to answer him, he reiterated, and the queen stirred at the vibration of her husband's rumbling voice.

"Hm...?" she murmured, raising her head. "O-oh, forgive me, I appear to have drifted off, dear."

Fergus' azure eyes softened with tender love, kissing Elinor's forehead once more. "Ye've nothin' to apologize for," he assured her.

"Did ye complete Merida's lesson as I instructed?" the queen inquired, resisting the urge to yawn.

The king hesitated. "A-aye, love. Of course. I'd do anythin' for ye. You know that."

Elinor raised a brow at the uncertain tone in his voice, but she couldn't bear to resist his adoring face. "Mmhm," she mumbled, not entirely convinced. Fergus began to stammer quietly under his breath.

"I... erm... dear, well, I..."

"Fergus," Elinor sighed, rolling her eyes, and the king finally gave in. "I told ye many times over..."

"I know, I know," he conceded sheepishly. "I'm sorry, love, it's just, well, Merida and I... well, she just wanted to ride Angus so badly, and ye know I can't bear to deny her of anythin'..."

Elinor managed a smile at the bond of her husband and daughter. "Aye, I know."

"So, shall I be off then?" he asked, massaging her shoulder with a large yet careful hand.

"Well, dear... n-no," she said, chuckling hoarsely at the confused expression plastered upon her husband's face.

Although he was quite puzzled, who was he to argue with his queen?

"'Course, Eli, love. It'd be my pleasure."

He allowed his hands to slide down her curvaceous form (which, at the moment, was covered fully by a soft quilt and nightgown, much to his dismay). Though he felt slightly ashamed, he could sense his body reacting to her vulnerability, and he quickly dismissed the intimate thoughts from his subconscious.

Elinor began to feel her face burn with modesty, though she suspected it was most likely due to her fever. She dizzily gazed into her husband's eyes, and as he kissed her neck, she intervened.

"F-Fergus, I'm sorry, but," she whispered, placing her hands upon both sides of his face and lifting his head gently, "I'm far too out of sorts to engage... in..."

Her voice trailed off with fatigue, and Fergus brought her closer. He knowingly placed a gentle hand upon her back, and with an affectionate rub, kissed her forehead, allowing his lips to momentarily relieve the heat of her skin.

Although his gorgeous queen wasn't willing to act intimately with him, he was more than honored to spend the day with her. It was the very least he could do.


	12. Fair Maiden

Fair Maiden

_Fergus proves to his queen that no matter how her exterior may look, she is no less captivating to him.  
_

* * *

_A/N: This one-shot was inspired by the song _Just the Way You Look Tonight, _one of my favorites. Enjoy._

* * *

At the sound of his wife's lamenting cry, King Fergus came running, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. Hearing her in such a manner caused his heart to race in distress. Was it time? Already? Could it be possible that their heir to the throne would be born today?

These thoughts only caused the king to become even more anxious, and by the time he arrived at their bedchamber, he was thoroughly winded and out of breath. He firmly gripped his hand around the doorknob and flung the door open.

"Eli!" he cried, sighing in relief as his wife turned to face him. His blue eyes glanced up and down, studying her from head to toe. She appeared to be well - if she were anything, she was simply flustered. As he approached her, he placed a hand protectively upon her swollen midsection. "Love, what's ailin' ye?"

"Would ye look at this, Fergus? Just look!" she cried, gesturing at the dress she was holding in her hands. It was at this moment that the king realized she was still in her nightgown, and he cocked his head in confusion.

"Erm, what am I lookin' at dear? Exactly?" She glared at him icily, and he felt his large form retract slightly as he cowered.

"This!" she snapped, holding up the the gown in front of her, allowing her confused husband to continue to stand before her, dumbfounded.

Fergus gave her a helpless shrug. "I'm sorry, dear, I just don't understand what ye're askin' of me," he said hesitantly. Women were so peculiar to him, but the fact that he was unable to provide his wife with a sufficient reply in order to please her made his heart heavy.

"My favorite gown! It... must be... _adjusted." _she elucidated, enunciating every word with fervency. "Do ye understand me now?"

The king's face lit up with his sudden epiphany. "Oh, I see now. That's not a problem, dear, we can-"

"It most certainly _is _a problem, Fergus!" Elinor retorted, angrily tossing the gown back into her chifferobe. "Now I will be inconvenienced with the task of adjusting it!" She began to pace back and forth, placing her hands upon her swollen stomach in a huff.

"Don't ye worry, Elinor. I will personally have it taken care of, love-"

"And how long will that task hinder my duties as queen? I was plannin' on wearin' that to my meetin' with the lords within the next fortnight, but now..." she lamented, ceasing her rant only to catch her breath. She lovingly caressed her protruding belly, but Fergus inherently knew the task of carrying their child was beginning to wear on her.

"Surely it will be all well by then, dear," Fergus offered. His queen scowled tritely at him.

"It must be sent to the village, and heaven knows how long it will take for the tailor to find the time to... oh, it's all for naught! It's purely a lost cause. No tailor in Scotland will be able to adjust that gown enough."

"Maybe not 'til the babby is born, dear, but surely after-"

Elinor glanced up at him, donning a frown. _"What_ are you implying, Fergus?"

The king was stunned. Had he offended her? How could he possibly bear to cause his queen pain?

"Wh-what? N-n-no, dear! I was just sayin'-"

"Enough," she snapped sharply, "I-I wish to be left alone, Fergus." She turned her back to him, gazing wistfully out the window.

"Elinor, please-"

"Go." was her reply, her tone wavering with sudden emotion. Fergus could not be fooled; not in the state in which he could see that his queen was obviously in. He approached her and snaked a gentle hand around her waist, drawing her in to his arms.

"Elinor, I meant nothin' by that. Love, listen to me," he murmured, placing both of his hands upon her face. "Eli-"

"Just look at me, Fergus," she murmured, wriggling out of his arms and stepping back. She dropped her arms at her sides. "Don't ye see? My clothes don't suit me, my figure is ruined..."

"All I see is my gorgeous lass," he replied matter-of-factly, stepping forward and kissing her soft lips. A drop of moisture landed upon his face, and he quickly pulled away, enveloping his wife in his arms as she began to cry.

"I just feel so horrible," she sobbed, her back heaving with gasping breaths.

"Tell me, Eli," Fergus said gently, brushing back her hair and kissing her dampened cheek.

"I'm a wretched person, Fergus. I've been so terrible to you, and I can't understand how ye'd have even the faintest of sympathy for me after what I've said to ye."

"Ye're talkin' nonsense," he replied, rubbing her back and allowing her to speak once more.

"No, Fergus, I'm not. I've not treated ye fairly. Those awful, awful things I've said..."

"Eli, Eli, shh," Fergus whispered. He was well aware of what his love had been going through recently, and her actions caused him to love her no less. She had no reason to be cross with herself if he wasn't, and he most certainly was not_. _"Don't ye fret about it. I don't blame ye."

"That still doesn't give me the right to treat ye that way." she whimpered, resting her head against his form as she continued to hiccup with sobs.

"Never ye mind any of that," he murmured, turning his head to offer her a loving smile. He kissed her nose, and she allowed him to catch a glimpse of that smile he adored. "There, now. Everythin' is goin' to be grand. We're goin' to be a family. You, me, and our wee babe."

"F-Fergus, ye don't mind that I'm not particularly, well..." He kissed her forehead gently, smiling as he noticed a blush become conspicuous upon her fair cheeks.

"Aye, dear?"

"I'm not... very..." She sighed before finally finishing. _"...limber?"_

Fergus boomed with a warmhearted chuckle before gently lifting his queen into his arms. Despite the extra cargo she was carrying along with her, she was incredibly light.

"'Course not," he replied lovingly, never being more truthful in his entire life. The fact that his wife was carrying their child caused his heart to swell with adoration and made his love for her grow even more so. "Elinor, ye have to believe me. Ye're just as beautiful today as they day I met ye, if not more."

She rolled her eyes at his charm. "Fergus, we were both soaked to the skin when we first became acquainted." She slightly raised a brow. "Ye pulled me into the river, ye devil."

He placed her gently upon their bed and hovered over her. "Aye, I remember. I do apologize for that." He kissed her nose gently, her soft, pleasured moan having a noticeable effect on him. The king moved downward, leaving a trail of kisses behind him. Elinor allowed him to continue with his pursuits until his deft pair of lips arrived at a certain spot that caused her to blush fiercely.

"F-Fergus," she squeaked, shaking her head as her husband glanced up at her.

"Love?"

"Not now," she whispered with a furrow of her brow. His face fell in a frown.

"Why _not_ now?" he protested, kissing his wife's pregnant stomach and his child that rested inside. "Good a time as any," he added with a proud grin.

"We can't just do whatever we please, whenever it suits us, dear."

"We _are_ the king and queen, are we not?" he said suavely, allowing his lips to land upon hers and travel down once more, arriving at her neck. He buried his face in her long, silky locks of hair, taking in her essence with every breath.

Elinor sensed her heart begin to race at the ravenous, devouring kiss that was placed upon her neck, and her chest quickly began to rise and fall with heavy breaths. With an audible, excited giggle, she crushed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck as she gave a soft moan.

A nightgown and kilt were soon carelessly shed and forgotten. Fortunately, the bustling, late morning sounds of the Highlands concealed the harmonious song emanating from the royal bedchamber, accurately describing the passion contained within its walls.


	13. Like A Flame

Like a Flame

_King Fergus' protective instincts regarding his queen never fade, especially when their unborn child is taken into consideration._

* * *

_A/N: Writing this gave me quite a warm and fuzzy feeling! Enjoy/review/follow/favorite/PM, you know the spiel._

* * *

The day began as grand as could be; the bright, clear skies hadn't a single cloud, nor held any signs of growing overcast. There were no foreboding storm clouds brewing in the distance. It was, in all respects, a near perfect day. The mountainous lands of the Highlands beckoned the king and expectant queen, who both desired more than anything to get away for a short period of time – to simply spend the day as they wished with the company of one another.

* * *

Fergus danced about as if he were merely a child, releasing a pleasured, uninhibited sigh as he took in the crisp, fresh air. His queen could only smile. He could be so juvenile – but she loved him so. His carefree nature only made her love for him grow stronger.

In the midst of his pursuits, their eyes locked for an instant, and the king's jubilant, blue eyes softened at the sight of his queen. She stood before him, simpering modestly. His joyful expression quickly morphed into one of the concern.

"This terrain is far too rough for you, love," the king observed. The footing of the ground in the glen could be quite treacherous, especially during the rainy season.

"Oh, Fergus. Nonsense. I'm perfectly capable of-"

He approached her and lifted her gently into his arms, laughing as she glanced down, evidently fearful of being dropped. She certainly had expertise in causing his heart to skip a beat.

"Careful, Fergus," she cautioned, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm carryin' precious cargo here, ye know."

"Have ye no faith in me, Eli?" the king responded, feigning hurt.

"Of course I do, dear, I just... oh!"

She cried out with surprise as he unexpectedly hopped over a trickling brook. She took note of his leap – it was incredibly graceful despite his large stature.

"I won't let anythin' happen to ye..." he promised, gently placing her upon the lush grass in a glimmering patch of sunlight peeking through the trees overhead. "...or our wee babby." After a quick peck to her cheek, Fergus reclined on the grass with a contented sigh.

"I'm not helpless, ye know," she murmured with a smirk.

"I know, dear. I'm just not willin' to take any chances with our babe."

Elinor, satisfied at his answer, followed his example, leaning back and snuggling closer to him. The king draped a gentle arm over her shoulder, bringing her closer as they cuddled.

"Ah, Elinor," he purred, rolling over and propping up his head with his elbow, "we should just run away together... won't be seen for days."

"And how would you and I pass the time?" she ventured, slowly closing her eyes as her husband leaned in; she was ecstatically preparing for the passionate kiss that was inevitably on its way.

"I dunno," he replied vaguely, "do ye have any ideas?"

"I think I do," she whispered, slowly surrendering to her husband's eager affection. He kissed her once before retracting his lips from hers; Elinor was nowhere near satisfied.

"Well then," he murmured with a charming smile, "I'm glad." Fergus placed a hand upon the swell of her hip and squeezed it lightly.

The queen, suddenly coming to terms with what her husband was hoping for, made a slight sound of protest. "Dear," she mumbled, pulling back, "we can't do this here."

"But, Eli-"

Elinor rolled her eyes and looked away. "Don't ye dare look at me with those eyes, Fergus," she chided, resisting the urge to succumb to his loving touch. "Ye're not gettin' yer way this time." Truthfully, she could hardly manage to resist his pathetic gaze, but she prevailed, and Fergus conceded his defeat – this time around.

"Fine, fine," he sighed, kissing her protruding stomach lightly. "What about you, wee babe? Agree with yer mum?" He tenderly massaged her swollen bulge, making circular motions with a large hand.

The queen sighed contentedly and took her husband's head in her hands, planting a loving kiss on his forehead. He kissed her nose in return, and the queen responded with a soft giggle. Fergus raised his head at the sound of a distant rumble of thunder, and he immediately glanced skyward, frowning at the quickly forming blanket of clouds.

"It's time we were goin', lass," he stated, rising to his feet and faithfully helping his queen to hers. "Storm's brewin'," he added at the sight of her furrowed brow. She darted her amber orbs upward, matching her husband's expression with a frown.

"Aye," she sighed, gazing at her king as he took her hand and squeezed it gently. Several raindrops began to fall, and gradually the drizzle began to steadily fall, morphing into a shower.

"Come, Elinor," he said, tugging her hand gently. "I don't want ye out here long."

She reluctantly obeyed. The day had begun so lovely, though as it grew to be afternoon, the sun had appeared to have hidden itself behind a thick shield. Rain began to pour from the skies above, and the queen couldn't help but release a joyful laugh. She began to walk, hastily quickening her pace and venturing out into the clearing, allowing the drops of water to cleanse her being.

"What are ye waitin' for, Fergus?" she invited warmly, beckoning him to join her. He hesitated, his face twisting up in worry.

"Elinor, please-"

"Oh, Fergus! Ye worry all too much!" she cried out giddily, pleasantly surprising herself at the response she had given to her king. In all honesty, her previous statement was nearly a direct quote of her husband!

At last, the king gave in, and he joined his wife in the pouring rain. He gave a holler of joy and raced up to his queen, lifting her into his arms while minding her pregnant belly. She squealed as she became suspended off the ground, smiling in euphoria in spite of the drops of rain falling upon her face and dripping down her cheeks. She placed both of her hands upon her king's face with a loving caress. Her love was panting with sheer excitement.

"Oh, E-Eli," he breathed, "I love ye... I love ye more than life itself. And our child, I adore our wee babe already." A soft pair of lips was pressed against his, and he gently placed his queen on her feet once more. Elinor continued to gaze adoringly into his eyes, and she proceeded to rest her head against his chest as he embraced her. "C'mon, now," he said quietly, "let's get out of this rain before ye catch cold, eh?"

Elinor glanced up at Fergus, beaming at his loving concern for her well-being. He gathered her in his arms and cradled her as if she were their unborn child. And then, the royal couple began their trek back to the castle.

* * *

The king, having changed into dry clothes and thoroughly dried himself with a towel, returned to the bedchamber he and his wife shared, anxiously looking forward to spending additional time with his beloved. As he entered the room, he spotted her sitting before the roaring fireplace, warming herself. She was still soaked to the skin, having neglected to change out of her wet gown.

"Oh, Elinor," he spoke softly, and his queen turned to face him, the glowing flames in the crackling hearth dancing across her features.

"Fergus," she murmured with a subtle smile, facing in the direction of the fire once more. Her lithe form trembled with a violent shiver, and the king approached her, gently placing a hand upon her shoulder. She was most certainly soaked to the skin, and the soft sniffling from his queen that followed provided him with no comfort.

"Here, love," he whispered gently, taking the liberty of beginning to remove her drenched gown, "let me help ye out of this wet dress before ye catch a terrible chill."

That prospect was not a pleasant one, especially considering the fact that he now had a child to consider. Elinor turned her head and offered him an enamored, sultry grin, and allowed him to slip off her dress with ease. He gingerly hung it in front of the hearth to dry before returning to his place and wrapping his arms around her waist, embracing her in a tender hug. She placed her hands upon his, which were now rested upon her stomach. The king soon discovered that even Elinor's bodice was damp, and a mischievous smile, despite the circumstances at hand, crept across his face.

"May I?" he asked, placing his hands upon the fabric.

"You may," she replied, facing forward once more and bracing herself for the intrusive, curious touch that was surely to come. Her husband quickly removed what garments were remaining on her, and kissed her moistened neck with fervency. He cautiously lifted her and delivered her to their warm, inviting bed, joining her soon after.

"Are ye warm enough Eli?" he inquired hopefully. His heart swelled at the sight of her loving smile.

"Not quite," she whispered, her aching tone nearly driving him mad.

Fergus enveloped Elinor in a loving embrace, allowing his warmth to wash over his bride. She gave a sigh of heavenly contentment, gratefully kissing his lips. The king and queen relished their time together with unabated, undying passion. The love that they shared was like a bright, burning flame; it never diminished.


	14. A Token of Love

A Token of Love

_Elinor assures Fergus that material things have no effect on her love for him._

* * *

_A/N: I _think _Elinor was seen with what Fergus gives her in this one-shot during the movie towards the beginning, but I may be wrong. If they didn't exist in Scotland during the 10th century, I'll say it's artistic license. I also am not sure of the form of currency during that time, so that's artistic license too. x3 I apologize for not uploading more often, finals=a pain. Enjoy, fellow fans. If I missed an error, I apologize. I. am. exhausted._

* * *

The craftsman, with steely black eyes, gazed at the young man before him, as if he were somehow putting him through a test. Was the lad brave enough, or determined enough, to stand before him without cowering? After a moment of silence, the young lord reiterated his earlier statement, though he did so rather timorously.

"I-is this enough?" he asked as he revealed a handful of coins resting in his palm to the craftsman, though his question sounded more as a statement to the elder. "Please, sir. If it's not, I'll make up for it – work in yer shop, even. I can do most any kind of work, if ye show me how. I'm a fast learner..."

The man held out his hand for the gold, and Fergus hastily dropped the coins in his calloused palm. They landed with a cheerful _clink _despite the circumstances. The young lord watched in silence, his heart hammering inside his chest.

The man's eyes appeared to soften, and his form rumbled with a sigh.

"I like ye, lad," he said, fumbling with the coins in his hands. "But, unfortunately, I wouldn't say this is much of a fair trade-"

"I'll do anythin', sir." Fergus interrupted, and the man's eyes softened further at the sound of his pleading tone. "I-it's for my lass – she means the world to me. I-I have to get her somethin', or she may realize that... well, that she deserves much better."

Fergus swallowed. He couldn't allow Elinor to come to the realization that she was far too good for him. She was royalty, and he was from a far less fortunate family. Their social classes were night and day.

The man gazed at him with empathy.

"Yer lass, ye say, hm?" he inquired with a sigh, mulling the situation over in his mind. He was not unfamiliar with the prospect of young love, even in his old age.

"I've heard grand things about ye. They say ye're the best woodworker in the Highlands," Fergus added, shifting his weight during the bout of deafening silence that followed.

Another beat of silence passed before the woodworker gave him an answer.

"They do, do they?" he chuckled warmly, taking pride in Fergus' comment. His eyes locked with the eager young man's and he sighed. "Well... I-I suppose I could manage this," he replied hesitantly, and Fergus resisted the urge to make an enthusiastic jump for joy. Instead, he grabbed one of the man's hands and shook it vigorously.

"Thank ye! Thank ye, sir! Ye don't know how much this'll mean to my lass!"

The thought of seeing his darling Elinor's eyes light up as he revealed to her the token of his love caused his heart to practically beat out of his chest.

"Although, this is on quite short notice, lad." the woodworker grunted, snapping Fergus out of his entranced glee.

"I know, I know, I should've come sooner." Fergus said ashamedly. Yes, it would have been wise to have made this request prior to three days before Elinor's birthday, but the young lord was far too relieved to worry about this prospect.

"Takin' that into consideration, I'm goin' to need some extra work from ye."

"'Course," Fergus replied quickly, "wh-whatever ye need me for, sir."

The craftsman nodded.

"Ye can start by pickin' up that broom over there." he boomed, pointing a finger towards the corner of the dimly lit room. "And, I expect to see ye bright and early on the morrow. Am I understood, young man?"

"Aye, sir," Fergus said with a firm nod. His erratically racing heartbeat had finally been calmed.

The woodworker held out a hand, and Fergus gripped it, sealing the deal with no hesitation whatsoever.

Afterward, the craftsman went to work, and Fergus began his work, as well.

* * *

Fergus clutched the logs tightly to his chest, panting as he shoved them in the hearth. He whispered a sharp interjection as several sparks arose from the flames and burned his palms, and he quickly stepped away from the roaring fireplace, wiping his hands upon his kilt.

"Y'alright, lad?" asked the woodworker, looking over his shoulder for an instant before going back to the task at hand.

"A-aye," Fergus replied, glancing at his hands a final time before lifting a broom and beginning to sweep.

A few moments later, the woodworker called his name, and he loyally retreated to the man's side.

Fergus' blue eyes came aglow at the sight of the masterpiece that lay on the table, and he placed a gentle hand upon it, running his fingers lightly across the mahogany surface. The man lifted the instrument from the table and offered it to him; Fergus took it gingerly in his hands. Carefully, he strummed one of the delicate strings, and the small workshop filled with a melodious sound, creating a pleasant harmony with the various noises of the crackling fireplace.

"It's... beautiful," Fergus marveled, caressing it with a gentle touch. His elder nodded.

"'Tis. Take good care of it, laddie. Quite fragile, so it is."

"Elinor... she's goin' to love it." the lad breathed, his mouth curving into a grin. "I can't tell ye how grateful I am for this, sir."

The woodworker returned his smile, and Fergus gently set the mandolin in the wooden case the man offered him. After a final offer of gratitude, the young lord took his leave.

* * *

"Fergus," Elinor giggled, peeking at him in an attempt to be inconspicuous. Her suitor objected with fervor, and the princess huffed, squeezing her eyes shut tighter.

"Do ye have those eyes shut tight, Eli?" Fergus inquired, determined to make the suspense last as long as possible.

"I _do, _Fergus." she sighed, and his heart fluttered at her choice of words.

"Good – now, keep 'em that way!" he chuckled, finding sheer amusement in the wrinkled nose that she donned.

He exhaled, and when he couldn't prolong the wait any longer, he asked her to open her eyes. Her amber orbs settled upon him, and she quirked a brow.

"Erm, yer saddlebag?" she questioned, staring intently at her suitor. He shook his head, offering a crooked and innocent smile. She now sported a puzzled expression.

"Er, close 'em again, love?" he requested politely, and his lass released an unladylike groan, shutting her eyes once more.

"_Fergus, _honestly now!" she complained, giving a sound of defiance as Fergus hushed her.

"Trust me, lass, it's worth it!" he assured her, clearing his throat before softening his tone. "Now, hold out yer hands."

The princess obeyed, but not without a soft sigh. Fergus took note of her impatience, and he couldn't help but smile. He opened his saddlebag and gingerly removed the wooden case. With the utmost caution, he unlatched the case and gently lifted the custom-crafted mandolin from its resting place lined with a deep, purple velvet.

Elinor drew a short gasp as Fergus laid the lute in her outstretched hands.

"Y-ye can open 'em now, Elinor," Fergus said quietly, standing back to observe her reaction, and he did not have to repeat his statement.

Elinor's amber eyes immediately landed upon her gift, and she gasped once more at the sight of the sumptuous mandolin. She timorously placed a hand upon the wooden, mahogany surface of the instrument, and allowed her fingers to gently trace the circular etching of the three bears that were precisely carved to match her pendant. The princess lifted her hand to cover her mouth before a soft laugh escaped her.

"Oh, Fergus, it's... it's gorgeous," she breathed, situating the mandolin in her hands and plucking the strings with a delicate motion of her fingers. "And it plays wonderfully."

"_You _play wonderfully," her suitor mentioned, taking his place beside her where she sat, still in awe over the gift she'd just received. She turned her head to gaze at him, leaning in and placing a brief but loving kiss upon his lips.

"I-I take it that ye like it?" he asked, placing one hand upon her knee.

"Oh, don't be daft. I _love _it," she replied with certainty. She hummed a soft note before strumming a chord, echoing her voice. "This is the best gift I could ever possibly receive," she added, caressing her newly-acquired present with a certain fondness.

"Really?" Fergus questioned.

Elinor nodded.

"Aye, because it's from _you,_ Fergus," she professed, inching slightly closer to him. "However did ye manage to get this?"

She was well aware that her Fergus' family was not on the best of terms financially, and she hoped that her lad hadn't gone overboard with purchasing her a gift. It caused her heart to ache at the thought of the members of her future family going hungry or something far worse.

"I worked a few odd jobs around the village," he replied.

"Ah, so that's what ye've been up to," she said, simpering at him. "I've been wonderin'. I was beginnin' to think ye were growin' bored courtin' me."

Fergus planted a soft kiss upon her forehead before draping an arm around her shoulder. She began to tune her instrument as he did so. He'd never taken note of her lovely singing voice until that moment.

"Happy birthday, Eli," he said gently, pressing his cheek to her head.

"Thank you," she said graciously. "Y-you didn't have to do this, m'love," she whispered, setting the lute upon her lap.

"Aye, Elinor. I did." was his reply. "I had to show ye that I'm worth yer time in some way."

Elinor turned her head to face him, her eyebrows knit close together.

"Get those thoughts out of yer head at once," she ordered incredulously. "You mean the world to me. We are to be married, after all."

"And ye're happy with that?"

"Where did this notion suddenly come from?"

"I dunno, I just... ye know I can't afford a fancy gown like the ones ye've already got, or else I would've-"

Elinor cut him off with a kiss before gently cupping his face in her palms. She caressed the roughness of his face, sensing his chiseled facial features and scruff that was beginning to form. He was becoming a man, a fact that sent a pleasant shiver up her spine.

"Fergus, you mean far more to me than any gift ye could give me, not to mention a silly dress. None of that is important to me, as long as I have _you. _Do you understand me?"

"Yes, love," he replied softly. As their lips met again, he at last took note of the authoritative tone she had used with him. Surely, one day she would make a fine queen. And perhaps one day he would be able to be the king she rightly deserved.


	15. Tis the Season

'Tis the Season

___The king and queen share a quiet moment together on Christmas eve._

* * *

___A/N: A short and sweet drabble. I do call artistic license on this one. Happy holidays!_

* * *

The mirth of the holidays was upon them; the corridors of the castle were decked with all the aspects of Christmas down to the very last detail – festive, woven wreaths, bits of holly, the warm, soft glow of candlelight.

Merida was as energetic as ever, and, to her parents' discontent, her baby brothers fed off of her emotions like the tarts they so ravenously devoured.

The three triplet princes, who had recently begun to stumble about on their pudgy legs in their many attempts to walk, were beginning to show early traits similar to those of their father – a fact that the king relished and the queen viewed as a quite foreboding prospect. She adored her sons, but one Fergus was enough to handle – and quite the handful he was.

The children were not the only inhabitants of the castle who were brimming with anticipation. Most of the servants, Maudie in particular, were constantly scurrying about, decorating, preparing, anything they could do to contribute to this special occasion in any way.

King Fergus was as outgoing as his children, though this was not an unusual characteristic for him to possess.

The queen, on the other hand, was feeling quite overwhelmed. She was inexorably fatigued with the pressures of being a monarch and mother, and raising four fiery, spirited young kin, even with her king by her side, was not an easy task.

During most evenings, Elinor simply wished to crawl beneath the covers and drift off in the warmth of the crackling hearth, rendering Fergus quite disappointed. He showered her with his affections nonetheless, listening intently as she absentmindedly recited her qualms and the day's events to him.

Try as she might, Elinor was unable to contract the contagious Christmas spirit.

* * *

Finally, the eve of the holiday arrived, and after the children had been put to bed (for the three princes, it was a somewhat lengthy process) Queen Elinor gave a sigh, a release of all the stresses the day had inflicted upon her.

She found it quite curious that her husband was not accompanying her to their bedchamber, but perhaps other things were on his mind. Elinor, of all people, was aware of how fickle her love could be, and with little more thought over the matter, she began to make the trek to her room. Gingerly placing a hand upon the knob, she turned it slowly, and all at once, a blissful, rejuvenating warmth washed over her. Her tired eyes fell upon her bed, where her king already lay.

He grinned as he propped his head up using his elbow, and he patted the bed beside him, raising his brows. Elinor shook her head slightly out of disbelief, smiling all the while. Fergus – he worked in quite mysterious ways.

"Love," he murmured, his smile widening.

He lifted two chalices from the bedside table, chuckling as his wife offered him a puzzled gaze. As she took her place beside him, he gently handed one of the sumptuous goblets to her. She accepted it happily.

"What's all this about?" she questioned, offering him a loving smile.

From beneath the covers, he revealed to her a bottle of wine, straight from his private reserve.

"Well," he said vaguely, popping open the bottle with a pair of hungry, blue eyes, "I wanted to spend some time with ye."

"Darling, you and I..."

"_Alone." _he interrupted, leaning in to kiss her cheek. A cheeky grin crept across his face. "Has this chilly weather caused ye to come down with somethin'? Ye look a bit red in the cheeks, lass." He placed a gentle hand upon her skin, and after a tender caress, the queen's stomach fluttered – not the kick of a baby, which she had grown quite accustomed to, but rather a pleasant effect of her husband's loving touch.

"I... erm... y-you," she stuttered, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes and beginning to fiddle with her long braids. "Sh-shall we?" She held out her chalice and avoided his intrusive gaze. The king could only chuckle.

With a deft hand, he lifted the bottle and began to pour, taking to the time to glance up momentarily to allow his eyes to study her delicate features. She anxiously chewed her bottom lip – an action that the king found maddening.

"Oh, do be careful, love." she cautioned, grasping the chalice with trembling hands. She brought the goblet up to her lips and took a sip, her body wracking with a pleasant shiver.

As the king poured himself some wine, the queen reclined upon the bed with a contented sigh. She was entirely touched at her husband's attempt at romancing her. A quiet moment, just the two of them, was what she needed. Truly, his seductive actions were having quite the effect on her.

The mattress groaned as Fergus leaned back upon the bed with her, and a mere moment passed before their lips were locked together.

Mindlessly, Elinor set her chalice upon her bedside table. She allowed her hands to caress his face, and she gingerly removed the helmet from atop his head, running her delicate fingers through his curly locks.

At an abrupt loss of passion, the queen pulled back with a pair of disenchanted eyes.

"Now, what do we have 'ere?" Fergus mentioned with curiosity, smiling and gazing skywards. Elinor's amber eyes followed his gaze, and she couldn't help but sigh effeminately at the sight of mistletoe adorning the top of their canopy bed.

"Oh, Fergus..."

She hastily took his face in her hands, planting adoring kisses upon his face.

"I'm tellin' ye, Eli," he chuckled, "ye've got yerself a romantic."

Elinor rolled her eyes as he began to boast.

"Hush, sweetheart." she ordered, pressing her index finger to his lips. He readily complied with her wishes, as he couldn't afford to _not _be on his best behavior in situations such as these – moments he shared with only his queen were the ones he cherished the most.


	16. Tenderness

Tenderness

_The king and queen show their love for one another and muse about the impending arrival of their heir._

* * *

The queen winced as her husband leaned into her, and although his impassioned caress caused her stomach to flutter with excitement (or perhaps it was the kick of their baby, who had quite the reputation of making his or her presence known), she desperately tried to conceal the fact that she was experiencing pain. She lifted her arms from where they were placed at her sides and rested her hands upon his back.

"D-dear," she squeaked, her chest heaving as he placed his hand upon the swell of her hip and allowed it to wander upward.

"Hm?" replied the king mindlessly as he tucked a strand of his wife's hair behind her ear. He pressed his lips tenderly to her forehead as he kissed her, and proceeded to touch his nose to hers. "What is it, Eli? Tell me, love."

Her husband's blue eyes gazed lovingly into hers, and she lost the nerve to tell him of her qualms. His adoring gaze caused her to go weak at the knees, and she felt the overwhelming desire for another kiss.

"Never mind, darling," she said adoringly in a soft, nearly inaudible tone, kissing his inviting pair of lips. She nodded, more to herself than her to her husband. "Just... just a wee bit longer," she breathed, feeling the need for more affection from her king despite the discomfort she was experiencing.

"Are ye sure?" he inquired, using a powerful yet gentle hand to massage her pregnant stomach. Fergus smiled with a contented sigh. He wasn't certain if he could handle the suspense much longer; he could hardly wait for the arrival of their baby – the first child he and Elinor would have together. He did hope there would be more, after all, especially when he considered the actions required for having a baby. She closed her eyes in a state of euphoria at his caress, whispering her answer with affirmation. With a chuckle, he smiled. "Gladly, darlin'. With pleasure..."

He would go to the ends of the earth to make her happy, for whenever she was at peace, so was he. He gingerly kissed her royal lips, taking pride in her euphoric sigh. He broke the kiss, and as she cradled his head in her hands, he provided her protruding belly with a loving kiss, feeling her giggle beneath his lips. He raised his head to glance at her, eying her cheekily as he raised a brow.

"And what's so amusin', lass?"

Elinor shook her head, dismissing his question with a smile.

"I love you," she professed, emphasizing every word as if it were her last and gazing at him with limpid, joyful amber orbs.

With a wide grin, Fergus instantly returned to the upper half of her body and rapidly placed several brief kisses upon her face. Another giggle arose from his queen.

"Do ye now?" he asked mischievously, obviously intrigued at her statement. He pressed his lips to hers for a moment before pulling back.

"Aye, I do," she reiterated in an adoring whisper as she kissed him again, capturing him by linking her arms around his neck as he made an attempt to break the osculation.

"And why's that?" he ventured after oxygen became necessary.

"Pardon me, dear?"

"_Why _do ye love me, Eli?"

"O-oh," she murmured. She was slightly taken aback at his obscure question, but she supplied him with an answer with no hesitation. "I-I simply do," she whispered, "More than anythin'. Since we met, I've had a... a certain _fondness _for you, Fergus."

"Have ye?" he said, kissing her cheek affectionately as he wrapped his arms slowly around her form, enveloping her deeper into his arms. "Och, darlin', I love you and our wee lass so much. I can't say how much I love ye."

"A lass, hm?" Elinor mused during the midst of their cuddle. She kissed his nose as he caressed her soft cheek, and he proceeded to lift the tendrils of hair concealing her skin, showing his deep love for her with a tender kiss to the neck.

"Aye, our babby's goin' to be a lass. I dunno, love, I've got this feelin'," he replied, gazing into her inquisitive, amber orbs. "...and don't try to convince me otherwise, love. Our babe's a wee lass, and she's goin' to be just like her mum. Just as clever, just as able, just as gorgeous..." He caressed her waist, causing her face to gain a familiar blush. "She'll have yer beautiful eyes... and stunnin' smile... and..."

"Oh, my," she giggled, offering him a modest smile. "Well, then, I do hope this babby lives up to yer expectations."

He gently kissed the bridge of her nose, chuckling. "I... I love everythin' about ye, Elinor. I truly do." Her body noticeably began to respond to his touch, and she urged him to continue in his pursuits by delighting him with several swift kisses to his face.

"Oh, Fergus," she whispered as he kissed her neck once more.

The queen was entirely ready to give herself to her king. But, as a wave of pain jolted though her body, she made an involuntary sound of protest, causing her king to lean back and lock eyes with her. As she grimaced in pain, Fergus became noticeably concerned.

"'s the matter, love?" he inquired, touching her cheek.

"N-nothing, m'dear." she whispered, shaking her head. He gently grasped her chin and gazed into her moistened eyes with his soulful azure orbs in an attempt to convince her to confide in him.

"Eli..."

As a wave of pain bolted through her body, she could suppress her confession no longer.

"I-I'm sorry, love, but I just... can't..." Her voice drifted off, and Fergus' azure orbs widened in alarm.

"Oh! Oh, m'darlin'! I'm sorry, Elinor," he said ashamedly, rolling to his side of the mattress and grasping her hand, lightly kissing her wrist. "Forgive me, lass..."

"Oh, darling, it's not yer fault. I'm sorry I haven't been able to do much for ye lately." Elinor admitted. She gave a quiet sigh accompanied with a disenchanted frown.

"Don't say that, Elinor," Fergus said gently.

"I do wish we could do... _somethin'_..." The queen's face suddenly lit up. "P-perhaps I can..." She wriggled closer to him in an effort to place herself atop him. Her efforts were futile, and she gave a gasping breath as she struggled to position herself.

"Eli," he whispered, lightly touching her arms with his hands. "Don't, love. Ye're goin' to hurt yerself." He gently restrained her and aided her in tucking her under the covers. She took comfort in the haven beneath the sheets.

"I'm sorry, Fergus," Elinor apologized, caressing her swollen stomach with her palms.

"Don't worry about it, darlin'." he crooned, kissing her forehead. "I'd much prefer to have you and the babe well and safe than put yer well-bein' at risk. I wouldn't know what to do if... if anythin' happened to you or our wee babby."

At his growing silence, his queen gently clutched his hand to her chest. As the days passed, and the birth of their child became more and more imminent, Fergus realized he was growing more and more anxious. He wasn't entirely oblivious; he was aware that many things could go wrong during a woman's labor and childbirth, and he simply wasn't willing to ponder the prospect for long. His Elinor was strong and brave, but he knew she had her limits, as she'd just revealed one of them to him.

Fergus made it a priority to _never _show any weakness or vulnerability, but whenever thoughts such as these crossed his mind, he couldn't help but feel severe emotion. He quickly swallowed a lump in his throat and turned his head at the familiar sound of his wife's voice.

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked, squeezing his hand out of concern. His sudden, distant behavior alarmed her somewhat.

"I was just thinkin', darlin'," he sighed. He shook his head. Everything would be fine; he wouldn't leave her side once. He would personally attend to her and make certain not a _single_ thing could go wrong.

"Do ye want to speak to me about it?"

"No," he replied hastily, chuckling softly at his wife's frown. "No, dear, it's nothin'. I was just thinkin' about the babe." He rolled over upon his side, gingerly placing a hand upon her stomach, and his queen placed a hand atop his.

"They're right here, with us, darling," she mused, smiling. "Oh, excuse me. _She."_

Fergus beamed. "Just imagine, love," he sighed, kissing her forehead. "We'll be parents soon."

"Aye," she responded dreamily, observing her husband as he curiously studied her form.

"H-have ye thought of any names yet?" he inquired, his voice brimming with excitement.

"A few," she replied vaguely, smirking at him.

"...and?"

Though he never admitted it to her, he was somewhat torn with his emotions whenever she acted like this; he disliked it when she withheld her thoughts and feelings from him – but, then again, her demure and flirtatious behavior combined with her coy simper resulted in a fascinating aura radiating from her being. It caused his heart to skip a beat.

"Ye'll just have to wait and see," she replied with a raise of her brows, absentmindedly fondling her glossy locks with both of her delicate hands.

Fergus quirked his own brow. "Och, c'mon. Elinor..."

"No, no, no," she insisted, shaking her head. A boyish grin crept across Fergus' face, and he stroked his mustache thoughtfully.

"Oh, alright." he sighed with slight disappointment. "It'll be a surprise, then, eh?"

"Aye, dear," giggled the queen as she snuggled closer to him and placed her palm upon his chest, making circular motions as she rubbed it gently.

The king smiled as he wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulder. The way he saw it, if he and the queen were fortunate, the heir to the throne would be just like her mother. If the child happened to be a boy, he was certain he would take after his father, but Fergus did have his heart set on a little girl. The new prince or princess would have a special place in his heart, indeed.


	17. Injured Pride

Injured Pride

* * *

_The king suffers from a case of injured pride after Mor'du's attack.  
_

* * *

The outside world beckoned him – called to him. His wife was settled comfortably in a chair in the corner of their room, a book in hand. The deafening silence in the room was maddening.

Faintly, Fergus picked up the sound of his men roughhousing outside. What he wouldn't give to be out there with them. Of course, he cherished every moment he spent with his queen, but it appeared that she wasn't in the most conversational of moods on this day.

With a quiet sigh, Elinor turned a page, and the king sensed she was entirely engrossed in her novel. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Fergus donned a sneaky grin and quirked a brow. Although the queen had made it quite clear that she would absolutely forbid him from setting foot out of bed, he supposed what she didn't know, or _notice, _wouldn't hurt her.

Fergus leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed his peg leg with a swift hand, jamming it on to his bandaged leg. He winced at the bolt of pain that sparked and jolted upwards through his body, and he let out a gasping, albeit soft groan. He rapidly bunched the blankets in his arms, assuring his leg was entirely concealed before his queen had the chance to glance up at him.

Elinor raised her head and gazed worriedly at her husband.

"Fergus, dear?" she inquired with uncertainty, making a motion to come to his aid as she rose gracefully out of the chair.

"I'm fine, Eli. Just fine!" he chimed, faking a grin with his gritted teeth. His queen smiled lovingly at him and settled down in the chair once more, quickly getting back to her reading.

Propping himself up, Fergus used his arms to gain leverage, and he rapidly pushed himself on to his side with his mustered strength. He let out an involuntary grunt and instantly darted his eyes to his wife with a crazed, anxious gaze. Fergus breathed a sigh of relief as his queen flipped a page, and he studied her fixated amber eyes for a moment before proceeding with his task.

The muscles in his arms bulged beneath his weight, and without the use of both of his legs (one was rendered completely and utterly useless), he found this feat to be far more difficult than he would normally realize. He quickly grew weary and lightheaded in his weakened state of body and mind, though he persevered.

To his dismay, as he leaned forward in an effort to catch a glimpse outside the window, the bed creaked and groaned in protest. Fergus' heart leaped into his throat.

"Fergus." Elinor warned in a harsh tone, finding no need to even bother to avert her eyes from the page of her book. She knew him better than anyone, and she could instantly tell when he was _clearly_ up to something.

The king groaned. "Aww, c'mon, Eli-"

"Dear, settle back down, now," ordered the queen, marking her place in her book. After setting the literature gently upon a nearby table, she folded her arms defiantly. It was apparent that her husband was in need of her sole, undivided attention.

"Please, Elinor, let me out for a wee bit, just for some fresh air." he pleaded as he tucked himself beneath the covers once more, looking at her endearingly with unabated affection in an attempt to woo her into granting him his wish.

Elinor turned her head, avoiding her love's pathetic, azure gaze. He could be quite persuasive at times; this time, however, she resolved not to encourage him by complying with his whims.

"No, Fergus," she replied stubbornly, facing him once more.

"How 'bout this then, love," he said, his tone becoming all the more excited. "What if I promise ye I'll be _extra _careful-"

"Fergus, I said _'no'," _snapped the queen. The consequences would be dire if he were to become too rough while indulging in his usual activities, even those at which he would normally merely chuckle in amusement.

"Why not, Elinor?" he challenged, displaying his frustration with his hand gestures and facial expression.

"Because, Fergus, I am the queen, and I said so," she said quietly, trying with every fiber of her being to remain calm. "What if you were to hurt yerself? Ye're in no shape to sustain an injury." was her explanation, her voice growing more strained by the moment. Though he blatantly denied his vulnerability, Elinor could see through her husband's facade. "I can't... _we _can't risk it."

She shook her head as she turned away from him, attempting to control her sudden emotion.

"Elinor, don't ye trust me?" the king asked gently, hoping his wife would confide in him.

"Of course, dear, but I know how rough you can get..." she murmured, gliding over to his bedside and beginning to fumble with the quilts draped over her king. "My darling, I understand that ye're restless, and ye enjoy bein' out and about, but ye _must _recognize yer limits."

"I just can't stand this," he groaned as his wife kissed his cheek. "What if you or Merida were to wind up in danger? I wouldn't be able to do anythin' about it." He ashamedly directed his eyes away from his wife's, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, love..." Elinor said gently, setting a hand upon her king's shoulder.

"What use am I if I can't defend the clan?" he asked, at last confiding in his wife.

Elinor came to the realization that her husband was suffering from a severe case of injured pride. Naturally, he would be. She couldn't believe she didn't have this revelation sooner. King Fergus had always been the most capable of kings; he was a skilled marksman and all-around noble man, though he came from a much less privileged background than the queen. He was so accustomed to overpowering his foes with sheer force. And now, he believed he was useless.

"Fergus, don't say that," insisted the queen. "Darling, I love you. Yer skills in archery or swords don't matter to me, as long as ye're alive and well." She kissed the king's forehead. "And thank the heavens you are."

"But, Elinor, it's my job to protect you and our wee lass," mumbled Fergus with a sigh.

"Fergus, ye're much more than just a marksman. Ye're a king, a father, and my love." Elinor said, the corners of her mouth curving upward in a smile as her husband's glum aura began to noticeably brighten, his spirits lifting ever so slightly.

She opened her mouth to speak once more, but was interrupted, crying out in joyful glee as her husband pulled her down atop him. "Oh, but Fergus, yer leg!" she protested, anxiously supporting herself and keeping her weight off of his injury.

Her worried expression quickly morphed into one of confusion, her eyebrows knit close together. Cautiously, she lifted up the covers. Her husband instantly donned a cheeky smile.

"Elinorrr," he purred with a chuckle, shaking with laughter as his wife pulled back the sheets. "Ye lookin' for somethin', lass?"

"Och, Fergus. Enough," she muttered with a roll of her eyes, suppressing the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She placed a gentle hand upon his wooden leg, instantly darting her eyes back upward, capturing his gaze. "Would ye care to tell me how _this _got here?"

"How what got there, dearest? What _do _ye speak of?" he remarked, feigning a rumbling yawn and folding his arms across his chest. He closed his eyes with a smug grin, only to be released from his state of serenity seconds later, yelping in agony as his wife removed his wooden leg. His teary, blue eyes popped open as he instinctively grabbed his injury with both hands.

Elinor instantly snapped her head up and retracted her hand with a gasp.

"Oh, dear! Fergus, did I hurt ye?" she inquired anxiously, caressing his face with her hands. He blinked away the tears quickly forming in his eyes, successfully upholding his masculine reputation.

"No, no, Eli..." he murmured, touching her cheek with a powerful yet gentle hand. "I'm quite alright." The queen breathed a sigh of relief as her husband kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through her locks of hair.

"Thank goodness. Now, do ye need anything, my love?" she inquired in a soft tone as she hovered over him. A smile crept across his face.

"Stomach's talkin' a wee bit," he mentioned nonchalantly, gazing at his wife with a pair of pitiful eyes.

Despite his insatiable appetite and slightly demanding requests, Elinor found her husband to be indescribably charming and incredibly endearing. With a swift, compliant nod, she obliged.

"Of course, my dear," she said fondly, leaning in to kiss his nose.

* * *

The queen, entirely engrossed in her sewing, scarcely noticed her daughter burrow beneath the fabric at her feet, crawling on to her mother's lap. The blue-eyed lass peeked out from under the fabric with a giggle. Elinor feigned a gasp and brought a hand to her heart, smiling warmly at her precious child.

"Oh, my goodness, darling! Ye gave me quite a surprise!" she exclaimed, echoing the princess' chortle as the mother and daughter shared a tender embrace.

"What's this, Mummy?" Merida inquired, running her hands over her mother's latest project.

"Just a wee blanket. It's for yer father, my love," replied the queen, picking up her needle and thread once more. She had only just begun on her task once more before her daughter piped up again.

"When will Daddy be able to play with me again?" Merida asked, cuddling up to her mother. Elinor chuckled warmly before leaning in to kiss her child's curly, red hair.

"Not for a wee bit, I'm afraid," the queen affirmed, plucking the last of the thread from the quilt draped upon her lap.

"So, this is for Daddy?" Merida inquired curiously.

"It certainly is," Elinor confirmed, smiling fondly. Her beloved Merida was full of curiosity on any ordinary day, but it was especially accentuated whenever her father was being discussed.

"Oh. Is Daddy cold?"

"No, love," chuckled Elinor, "but I do want to keep him nice and warm." She held up the quilt to examine it, running her finger upon the stitching. "What do ye think? Hm?"

"Pretty," Merida said in awe, her blue eyes studying every minute detail. Her tiny mouth gaped with an audible yawn, and the queen responded with a giggle.

"Come now, lassie. It's past yer bedtime, darling."

Elinor scooped up her daughter into her arms, gingerly cradling both of her creations as she strolled out of the tapestry room. As she strode into her daughter's room, she sighed contentedly at the inviting warmth of the roaring fire, and she gently placed the princess upon her bed, tucking her beneath the sheets. She lovingly kissed Merida's forehead with motherly affection.

"Good night, Mummy. I love you," whispered the little girl, stretching her arms into the air as Elinor embraced her with a hug. They both exchanged a kiss with one another upon the cheek, whispering several more loving words to each other.

The loyal family dog, Seamus, scampered into the room, his tail wagging furiously. He greeted the queen and princess with joyful spunk before hopping up on top of the bed, making himself comfortable as he spun in circles in his chosen spot. Plopping down with a low grunt, he dreamily sprawled out upon the mattress, protectively guarding his young mistress.

"Good night, my love," Elinor murmured, taking note of her child, who had already begun to drift off. With the quilt in hand, the monarch took her leave, making her journey to her bedchamber where her husband surely awaited her.

She placed her hand upon the doorknob and carefully opened the door, making a quiet entrance.

"Fergus, dear, I-" Her voice instantly drifted off at the sight of her beloved, who lay asleep upon their bed. The queen's mouth curved into a tenacious smile as her consort's form rose and fell steadily, occasionally releasing a soft snore. Elinor glided over to his bedside; he faced away from her at this moment, and she longed to see his loving gaze. With caring expertise, she gently draped the quilt over him before retreating to her armoire.

After silently changing into her nightgown, the queen returned to her king's side, crawling into bed beside him. She flinched ever so slightly as the mattress squeaked, but Fergus didn't stir, much to his wife's joy. With a gentle hand, she rested her palm upon his cheek, caressing his visage in a loving fashion.

Every time she laid her eyes upon him, he managed to capture her heart all the more, a fact that the queen found inexplicable. She adored him beyond words; every tiny quirk he possessed caused the love she harbored for him to expand and grow.

His bright, azure eyes were in a constant state of ecstasy; constantly cheerful and optimistic, King Fergus could inevitably lift his queen's spirits on even the gloomiest of days. His mustache rarely drooped with disappointment or sadness; it was most always curved upward with his infamous boyish, crooked grin. He radiated a distinct aura of bravery and selflessness. It seemed to be a necessity to protect his family; he could easily attest to that fact with his missing leg. Elinor was unable to fathom what possibly could have happened had Fergus not apprehended Mor'du in time.

The queen shuddered at the thought. She wished with every fiber of her being that the wicked beast had stayed far away from their family and clan. Had he maintained a safe distance, her husband would never have suffered such pain. She had been so afraid – so afraid that her eyes would never have beheld a glorious sight such as the one before her at this moment.

Her husband continued to sleep soundly, and Elinor was incredibly grateful. The king needed all the rest he could possibly receive if he wished to make a full recovery; and the queen, for one, longed to have him on his feet once more.

Elinor smiled sentimentally at the fondness she felt for her husband. He had always been there for her, even when they were children – he a youthful, cocky lad, she a naïve yet thoughtful princess. When they were in their youth, she had never imagined they would be joined together as husband and wife, but she was utterly thankful, nonetheless. He had given her their child, and she couldn't be happier.

In the midst of her musings, Elinor took note of her husband's blue eyes slowly flutter open, and her lips curved into a smile as he touched his nose to hers.

"Love," he murmured softly, his gravelly tone being suppressed in his evident exhaustion.

"Darling," she whispered.

Several soft, affectionate words were uttered between the couple before they both drifted off in the arms of one another, basking in the harmony they shared.


	18. Complementary

Complementary

_Even at the most inopportune of times, King Fergus is still up to his usual mischief._

* * *

The overwhelming urge to move was practically unbearable to the fidgety young king. Fergus' azure eyes darted to the fair lady at his side, who was indeed setting a wonderful example. He did respect that. As she slowly turned her head and settled her amber gaze upon him, he sensed his heart begin to pump in a wild frenzy. She offered him a modest smile; the simper, though completely loving and cordial, had a coy air to it that nearly caused the ginger-haired man's heart to beat out of his chest.

Elinor faced forward once more, though she leaned into him ever so slightly. He, in turn, responded to her flirtatious behavior by inconspicuously gliding his hand from where it rested upon his sheath and lightly touching her behind. She abruptly turned her head to glance at him again, her intricate braids swinging rhythmically where they were suspended, resting once more upon her shoulders. She offered him an all-knowing smirk. The twinkle in her eyes and wrinkle of her nose alerted him to her approval of his actions.

"Fergus," she chuckled softly. "Ye can't be doin' that now-"

"Be still, m'lady," ordered the owner of a very impatient voice, stroking his thin mustache with paint-caked fingertips.

"My apologies, Malcolm," sighed Elinor, a slightly sullen expression taking hold on her fair visage.

As she reverted to her original position, Fergus couldn't help but feel sympathy for his queen. He could see clearly through her polite regard; she was growing quite impatient, as well. If anyone knew what she was going through, it was he, her significant other. The concerned king desperately wished to cheer up his wife in any way possible.

As he observed the restless painter once more, he couldn't help but find amusement in the odd little man. His arms flailed with swift brush strokes; now and then, his thin, fragile hand would swoop down, guiding his paintbrush to a glob of paint splattered across his palette of colors. The king studied him all the more as he wiped his brow with his hand, leaving a trail of vibrant, red paint in his wake.

At this humorous sight before him, it was all Fergus could do to keep from roaring with amused laughter; however, the king could not suppress a rather presumptuous snort in an effort to keep his snickering within him. He cleared his throat gruffly and noisily as the bespectacled craftsman peered over his easel out of suspicion. The queen glanced at her husband as well, offering him a bemused expression in response to his usual antics.

"What, pray tell, do ye find so _humorous, _my good lord?" interrogated the man known as Malcolm, frowning upon the king.

Fergus darted his eyes to his queen; she, along with this strange character, was in search of an explanation herself.

"Er... I... um-" The stammering king glanced once more at his wife for counsel.

"Fergus," she said, gesturing towards their guest, "enlighten him."

The king darted his guilty, blue eyes back to Malcolm before continuing nonchalantly, "Must just be comin' down with a head cold, is all."

Elinor offered him a puzzled expression, her eyebrows knit together. _Her _Fergus? Feeling under the weather? Never. He was obviously up to something.

"Please, carry on," encouraged the unconvinced lady to the painter; she had personally hired this man to get the job done, and she was determined to not allow his time to go to waste. If she weren't so restricted regarding her movements, she would have folded her arms in a discerning fashion.

"Aye, m'lady," Malcolm mumbled, having already gotten quickly back to work.

Elinor leaned closer to her husband. "Fergus, what are you up to?"

"Nothin' this time, love," replied the king loftily, rapidly pecking her cheek when he caught Malcolm's eyes focus upon his masterpiece, "but did ye happen to notice that war paint of his?"

"Hm?"

Fergus used his steady gaze to indicate towards the man, and Elinor's amber eyes settled upon him. She gave a quiet gasp, bringing a hand up to her mouth.

"Eh, what'd I tell ye?" snickered her husband, and Elinor sensed that she was on the brink of contracting his contagious merriment. She nearly gave in to the temptation of outwardly chortling, but resisted.

"N-now, Fergus, you quiet down," she ordered, her voice straining as laughter threatened to escape.

"C'mon, Eli, just let it loose," purred the king.

Elinor's eyebrows became knit close together. "What are ye-"

Cheekily, her husband placed a massive paw upon her behind and gave it a firm squeeze, causing Elinor to release an audible squeak out of surprise at the unexpected contact from her suddenly frisky husband.

"Och, you!" she gasped beneath her breath, giving him an admonishing yet good-natured elbowing in the ribs.

Fergus shook with a hearty laughter, and Elinor at last gave in to hers, releasing an effeminate chortle as her husband caressed her face with his hands. The king clutched her tightly to his form, placing a gentle kiss upon the tip of her nose. In the midst of their affections, the royal couple faintly picked up a tiny voice attempting to gain their attention.

"Erm, please, Yer Highnesses," sighed the scrawny man with a paintbrush in hand. "If ye don't mind..."

"_Oh," _Elinor squeaked, the all too familiar blush giving her cheeks a rosy hue. "I do beg yer pardon." She faced forward once more, far too embarrassed to say another word. Her husband was such a terrible influence.

"Quite alright," replied the artist, glancing at his easel before averting his eyes back to the king and queen. "Now, if ye'd please..."

"Of course," said Elinor cordially. "Fergus, be on yer best behavior, do ye understand me? No more of yer silliness," she ordered, and she turned her head slightly in order to gaze into the king's eyes – warm amber met clear azure.

"Whatever ye say, bonnie," Fergus said, conceding defeat. Her eyes made her point clear and concise; his queen meant business. She was often quite true to her word – but, her soft spokenness enchanted him so.

Malcolm gazed intently at the royal couple, muttering under his breath as he submerged the tip of his brush into the blue on his palette. He raised his arm and used his thumb to study their proportions, squeezing one of his beady eyes shut as he clicked his tongue. The painter, engrossed in his work, abruptly slapped the color tipping the brush on to his easel. Drops of paint soared backward towards the artisan, leaving specks and splatters of vibrant color all over his face.

Yet another grin tugged at the corners of the king's mouth. A familiar, endearing sound arose from his queen, and he glanced over at her, catching a glimpse of her stifling a persistent giggle with her hand. As Malcolm averted his eyes to the royal couple, he frowned as his eyebrows became knit together.

Elinor drew a short breath as she gasped, gazing angelically at the displeased man. Fergus copied her innocent expression, though he couldn't help glancing over into his wife's gorgeous, glimmering, amber eyes.

He was entirely dumbfounded at the fact that this guest in their home wasn't entirely entranced by his lady's exquisite pair of eyes, displaying a lifetime of wisdom and beauty. Although, he was grateful that he wasn't having to brawl with his possessive instincts.

"My king and queen," Malcolm grumbled, inhaling deeply in an effort to remain calm, "are either of you plannin' on havin' this portrait finished within the century?"

"What do ye say, dear?" inquired Fergus of Elinor, still longing for some loving contact with his queen.

"I'm very sorry, Malcolm, but er... y-yer face..." She broke into a short-lived bout of laughter as the man before her began to turn beet-red.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, releasing a spewing string of curses in Gaelic. He slammed the palette upon the easel in his rage, balling his fists around his paintbrush. For a moment, the king and queen feared he would snap the brush in two.

Without another word, the artist stormed out of the room, and the incredibly guilty king made a motion to chase after him.

"N-now, listen, eh!" he stammered, sighing woefully as he came to the realization that the man was clearly gone. He turned to his wife with a sheepish expression. "I-I'm sorry, love," he said apologetically.

The queen echoed her king's sigh and shook her head, gliding over to the easel and observing the unfinished portrait.

"Oh, Fergus, what have we done?" she sighed once more, folding her arms as she gazed intently at the work of art.

"Now, now, Eli, I'm sure we can work this out," the king said, taking the paintbrush in his oversized hand.

"Darling, you don't have a creative bone in yer body." Elinor scoffed, looking on as her husband touched the brush to the painting.

In response to her comment, he swiveled around, paintbrush in hand.

"I don't, eh?" he inquired mischievously. With a cheeky smile, he set the paintbrush upon the easel and lifted up the palette. As if he were a child with finger paints, he dipped the tip of his finger into the numerous colors and proceeded to gently touch the tip of her nose, leaving a noticeable red dot upon her face. "There now! A work of art!"

He chuckled in amusement as his queen rolled her eyes and placed her hands upon her hips. He donned a devilish expression, and Elinor shrieked as her husband lunged for her, enveloping her lithe form in his arms.

Yes, she was indeed his masterpiece; every detail about her caused his heart to swell, every swatch of color captured his attention and made her love her all the more.

Like the most crimson shade of red and the deepest emerald green, or the softest hue of violet and the most cheerful, sunny yellow, they complemented each other in the loveliest of ways.


	19. An Evening Dive

**A/N: This little drabble takes place after the events of the film, after the king had gone off to retrieve the triplets from the other clan's ship.  
**

**Enjoy. ;)**

* * *

An Evening Dive

_A playful move on Fergus' part gives Elinor the chance to wash away her inhibitions._

* * *

Merida's blue eyes averted from the newly-sewn tapestry toward Queen Elinor at the sound of her mother's rich, comforting brogue.

The monarch stood at the window, peeking through the curtains at the view of the highlands.

She was incredibly distant, as if her mind were elsewhere.

With a giggle that broke the silence, the queen observed, "Hm. Yer father is back, I see."

Merida, with piqued curiosity, joined her mother by her side, and Elinor parted the curtains to allow her daughter a glimpse through the paned glass window. The princess stifled a laugh with her hand at the sight she beheld.

King Fergus, with three wriggling triplet boys tucked under his arms, climbed carefully out of the rowboat and on to the dock, juggling his sons as they tried desperately to squirm from their father's grasp. Seamus and Donnan, the family's Scottish deerhounds, leaped out of the boat, nearly causing the king to trip as they scrambled underfoot.

"Oh, dear," the queen muttered under her breath with a soft, lighthearted chuckle.

After witnessing her husband's visibly flustered expression, Elinor smiled fondly.

"C'mon, now," she said with a sigh, "let's go and rescue 'im, shall we?"

Merida giggled and offered her mother a nod accompanied with a toothy grin.

* * *

As the mother and daughter duo made their way down to the docks, Fergus, sopping wet, met his lasses with a crooked smile. He gently placed his sons upon the ground, and they congregated around their mother, competing with one another over which of them was the most soaking wet.

"Oh, boys, have ye been givin' yer father trouble?" observed Elinor with a chortle, kneeling down to embrace her sons.

Seamus trotted over to Merida, panting and greeting her with his mouth wide open and tongue lolling, resembling a goofy grin. To rid himself of the excess water clinging to his fur, he thoroughly shook himself, sending droplets of water flying at the queen and princess. Merida allowed a chortle to escape as she knelt down to fondle the dog's ears. As she did so, she wrinkled her nose.

"Och, ye reek! Ye old rascal, you!" she giggled, and the animal barked happily, licking his mistress' face.

Hamish, Hubert, and Harris, in an attempt to gain their sister's attention, bounced up and down, increasing the excitement of the rambunctious, younger dog, Donnan.

In the midst of the banter being exchanged between their children, Elinor rose to her feet and focused her attention upon her husband, who was quite obviously vying for her attention, as he cleared his throat with a presumptuous cough. King Fergus mirrored Elinor's endearing smile as he greeted his queen.

With a gesture of her hand, she leaned in to whisper to him, "Care to explain to me _what, _exactly, happened here?"

Her husband paused, reaching up his hands to pluck his helmet from his head.

"Not particularly, m'dear," he grunted in response to her question, tipping his helmet over and allowing a cascading waterfall to dump from inside. Elinor leaned down ever so slightly, taking his kilt in her hands and squeezing water from the fabric as she muttered a few choice phrases of disapproval.

"Merida, darling, would ye take the boys inside where it's warm and dry? We _must_ get them out of those wet clothes before they catch cold." the queen inquired of her daughter, glancing back at the princess with a sincere gaze. She knew she could trust her with anything regarding those precious little boys.

"'Course, Mum," Merida chirped, beckoning for her now shivering brothers to follow her. "C'mon, boys. Seamus, Donnan? Are ye comin' with?"

Both dogs thumped their tails against the wooden dock before readily joining their young mistress and masters as they retreated to the inviting shelter of the castle.

Elinor straightened her posture with a soft chuckle and lightly brought a hand to her husband's dripping mustache, beaming wider as the king kissed her palm.

"You should come inside, as well, love," she murmured, smiling at him with a gentle concern. "You and I have a fire goin' in our room, ye know," Elinor added softly, and Fergus took note of her rather obvious seductiveness.

"Hmm," mumbled the king in response with a purr, twisting his kilt in his hands and draining even more water out of the fabric, adding to the puddle at his feet. "As nice as that sounds, Elinor, I actually had somethin' else in mind." he added vaguely, capturing his wife's gaze.

"Oh?" she replied, folding her arms in a queenly manner. "And what's that?"

She gasped as her husband momentarily swept her off her stockinged feet and slippers, and she clung to his drenched form as he cradled her in his muscular arms. With a careful step, he landed in the rowboat, sending it rocking as his weight came down upon it. Fergus gingerly set Elinor down in the boat, and she glanced about in confusion for a moment, allowing his apparent motives to sink in. She opened her mouth to protest, but her king stopped her short.

"Just relax, love," he requested gently of her, holding up a hand and offering her a reassuring smile.

"Fergus, really..." Elinor muttered, rising to her feet seconds later. He sustained his balance as he took his seat.

"Elinor, lass, sit down before ye fall in," the king warned anxiously, gripping the paddles of the boat as he prepared to row.

"Fergus, ye're soaked to the skin!" Elinor insisted, her feet still firmly planted where she stood. "Ye have to get into somethin' dry before ye-"

As the king began to row, his queen was sent flying backward, landing in the dark water with a shriek and a _splash. _Fergus' eyes widened as he mouthed his wife's name, and without any hesitation, he dove headfirst into the waters. He came up for air some time later, crazed in his frantic state of mind and overwhelmed with worry.

"Elinor...?_ Elinor?! Elinor, answer me, lass!" _he cried desperately, his heart skipping a beat as his queen submerged with a gasping inhale of oxygen. She sputtered with a cough, and Fergus aided her as she pulled herself up into the boat. Her husband sighed with relief. "Are ye alright, lass?" he inquired of her, inspecting her with a careful eye for any apparent injuries.

"Aye, no thanks to _you,_ I must remind ye," she muttered as she began tending to her drenched locks of hair, squeezing the water out of her tresses. She eyed her husband with disapproval as he offered her a guilty expression.

"We need to have the medic take a look at ye..." he moaned in distress, locking his eyes with hers as he reached up a hand.

"Fergus, I'm _fine," _she assured him with a huff, swatting his hand away as he made a motion to touch her.

"Eli, I-I'm sorry," he whimpered, folding his arms over the side of the boat and propping up his chin. "Please, darlin', don't be mad at me. I'll... I'll make it up to ye, I promise!"

Elinor began to feel the familiar sensation of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but she somehow managed to maintain her cross expression, defiantly turning her nose up at him and achieving a subtle, sadistic pleasure out of the torture she was inflicting upon the man she loved.

Fergus persisted, "Aw, c'mon, Elinor." He swam around to the other side of the boat to gaze into her eyes, a clear azure locking with a gorgeous amber. "Ye know ye can't resist this face," he purred, resting his head in his hands and gazing at her with an amorous set of eyes.

Elinor rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. "Oh, come up here, you." she at last murmured, folding her arms and rubbing them up and down with her hands in an effort to warm herself.

Her king gave a victorious laugh before making an attempt to scramble up into the rowboat. The boat creaked and groaned in protest, flipping over seconds later and sending the queen once more into the water, allowing her to join her husband in the frigidity.

Fergus quickly turned the boat back over from atop them, once again revealing to the monarchs the light of the early evening. He offered his wife yet another pleading gaze for forgiveness, pulling her in close in order to offer her part of his warmth as the two tread water in the chilled depths.

To his joy, Elinor's lips quivered for a moment before she erupted into a delighted laughter, and he joined her, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh of his own. Gently, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her cheek as he did so. He proceeded to touch his forehead to hers, caressing her cheeks with a pair of hands that dwarfed that of his wife.

Lightly, he kissed her lips, pulling back just as the queen was ready to deepen their passion. He gently took her hand in his, gazing deeply into her eyes as he slowly grabbed hold of the boat. Fergus led both his queen and the rowboat back to the dock, trussing the boat up securely with a piece of rope before climbing on to the dock. He knelt down once more, lifting Elinor out of the water as she released a soft albeit incredibly pleased giggle. The weight of her now drenched gown proved to make it slightly more difficult to lift her into his arms, but the king prevailed, proceeding to cradle her in his arms.

"Just as a wee babby," he crooned in a whisper, kissing her ear and chuckling as Elinor turned a shade of crimson. "Now, the first thing you and I are goin' to do when we get inside is take ye up to our room and get ye out of that dress..."

The queen blushed further, parting her lips as she accepted a kiss from him. Although she was perfectly capable of walking, she didn't protest her husband's actions, as she was instilled with an immense feeling of ecstasy, and she was absolutely positive that the sensation was caused by one man, and one man alone.


	20. On the High Seas

**A/N: If you can't figure it out, this is a written representation of the song, "Tha mo ghaol air aird a' chuain", by Julie Fowlis. I deduced that the "brown-haired maiden" may very well represent Elinor. Please enjoy. :)**

* * *

On the High Seas

_Fergus returns home from the high seas to his beloved Elinor.  
_

* * *

The young King Fergus' thoughts, though he had just begun his trek from the docks to the warmth and safety of the castle, were heavily preoccupied by his lovely, brown-haired fair maiden who surely awaited his arrival.

He had witnessed the look in her eyes as he kissed her goodbye; they reflected a melancholy unlike any he had ever seen before. She had pleaded and begged him not to go, and although he had promised that he wouldn't be away from her long, his heart had shattered at the fact that she would be out of his sight for a mere moment.

Fergus' entire being ached to see his Elinor, and he therefore widened the strides he took towards the castle, imagining exactly how he would embrace her when they finally locked eyes with one another.

The crisp, evening breeze refreshed the king, and a pleasant scent of spring blooms and dewdrops wafted through the air. The aroma, paired with the sweet, tangy scent of the sea, calmed his nerves of meeting his bride, his love. Fergus glanced up at the pink sky, marveling the beauty of the wispy, delicate clouds adorning the pale backdrop. A winged creature soared overhead, releasing a shrill squeak as it met its companion in the sky. The duo flew off together, evidently passionately relishing the harmony the animals shared with their significant other.

A sorrowful yet sweet sound caught the king's attention, and he questioningly turned in the direction of the peculiar serenade. It was certainly a gorgeous song, carried out by a gentle but distraught maiden. Fergus, allowing his curiosity to get the best of him, journeyed into the forest, aimlessly following the lovely, lamenting melody of the song.

At last, he caught a glimpse of a sturdy, mossy rock, which was, in his opinion, quite the quaint resting spot for a weary traveler. However, it wasn't the stone that entranced him, but rather the fair lady who sat upon it.

The golden ribbons decking her glossy, chestnut locks of hair appeared to glitter in the light of the setting sun, shimmering in the fading rays of light peeking through the evergreen branches. A shadow was cast upon her face, accentuating her dainty features even more so than usual. Soon, the stars would be rising in the sky, but the captivated King Fergus was far too distracted to notice, nor did he care.

"Oh, if anyone up there could possibly help me," whispered the maiden weakly, brushing away a tear that rolled down her cheek with her delicate hand, "m-my love, he's out on the high seas. I-I'm terribly worried... I don't know what to do, I... I can't go on like this..."

Her soft voice began to produce a lovely song once more, and Fergus' heart swelled with adoration.

* * *

More tears welled in Elinor's amber eyes, and her crying persisted, the sobs that filled area causing her husband's heart to grow heavy. He didn't wish to startle her; it was the last thing he wanted to do. His desire to shower her with affection was strong, but his caution concerning his queen was far more powerful.

An evening chill filled the moist air, and a light drizzle began to fall. Fergus began growing concerned for his wife's well-being. This frigid air couldn't be beneficial to her health, and her life was far too precious for him to take a risk.

A gentle breeze caused his love's braids to sway back and forth like a pendulum, and Fergus became deeply hypnotized by the enchanting, perpetual motion. The smell of succulent blossoms drifted on the breeze, the sweet, lush blades of grass surrounding his beautiful queen's stockinged feet and slippers dancing back and forth. The sparkling dewdrops that had formed adorned them beautifully.

The harmonious concord continued. The lovely serenade of the chorus, which included Elinor's gentle brogue, the soft chirping of birds, and the swaying of leaves in the trees, was quite literally music to Fergus' ears.

* * *

At last, the sun retreated below the horizon, finding solace and shelter. Slowly, night fell upon the kingdom, and the sparkling of stars shone in the sky. They participated in a dance with the clouds that remained in the sky, dazzling the king as he glanced upward.

His beloved's sobs echoed throughout the glen, and Fergus nearly lost all control. He would approach her and embrace her – hug her tightly to his chest, cradle her in his arms, ravenously kiss her face, scarcely giving her the chance to breathe as he assured her that everything was as it should be. He would remind her that he loved her more than anything on earth – more than words could possibly express. He loved her, oh, how adored her.

Elinor buried her face in her hands, her lithe body shaking with her crying. Through her tears, she continued to sing, as if trying desperately to calm _herself _more than anyone or anything else. Fergus, in turn, took a step forward, longing more than anything to comfort his darling queen.

"Tha mo ghaol air àird a' chuain," Elinor moaned in a murmur, her Gaelic singing becoming intertwined with her lamenting, mournful sobs.

* * *

Oh, he had to hear more of her lovely voice. Fergus couldn't hold back the smile creeping across his face. His wife was very much in love with him, almost madly so. He inconspicuously crept nearer to her, hoping he would be unable to be detected. Her tearful eyes produced copious tears, which were rolling down her cheeks at an alarmingly rapid rate.

"P-please, _please," _she whimpered sorrowfully, "protect my love, my _Fergus, _on the high seas."

The noble king couldn't allow her to suffer any longer. Fergus inched closer to her, taking a moment to admire her singing a final time before he lightly draped his hand over hers.

Elinor gasped, spinning around to face the unexpected visitor. She had thought she was all alone, after all – so very alone.

"What're ye cryin' for, hm?" he chuckled, helping her rise to her feet and pulling her into his arms as she incredulously whispered his name.

_"Fergus?"_ she inquired in a weak voice as she studied him with her amber eyes, pressing her lips to his seconds later.

Her husband caressed her dampened cheeks as he deepened the kiss, wiping away another tear here and there as she laughed tearfully into his mouth.

"Eli, Eli, listen to me," he professed, showering her face with kisses, "I'm back, and I'm here for ye." She delighted him with a giggle as he did so, and the young couple shared yet another impassioned kiss before Fergus continued, "Wipe yer eyes, love. I've returned to ye from the high seas."


	21. Reflection

**A/N: Whew, this is a rather long segment. But, I felt it needed to be done tastefully and well. I hope all of my dedicated readers (and some newcomers, too!) enjoy this. I was determined to upload this tonight! xoxo  
**

* * *

Reflection

_King Fergus reflects upon the painful memories involving the birth of the princes Hamish, Hubert, and Harris.  
_

* * *

The man, running his fingers loosely through his wife's silky strands of lengthy hair, buried his face in the softness that was his love. He sensed his beloved subtly tighten her embrace of him, and he grinned, not bothering to go to the effort of raising his heavy lids as he gently began placing a series of soft, gentle kisses upon her head.

"Fergus, what are ye doin', ye silly man?" she giggled, her mouth gaping as her lithe body produced a surprisingly unladylike yawn. She made an effort to muffle the outburst with her hand, to no avail.

"'Twas _quite _ladylike, Yer Highness," the king murmured with a chuckle, taking a long inhale of the scent of her glossy, chestnut hair and rubbing his cheek lightly against her head.

"_Pardon_ me," she whispered under her breath, tenderly and sentimentally. Her head was currently resting upon his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. As he shook with a hearty laughter, his wife allowed a smile to grace her fair visage.

Elinor twisted her small body around, rolling over to gaze into her husband's eyes. She continued to squirm about in his arms before finally settling beside him, placing her head beside his and sharing the space on his pillow.

"Comfy, now, are we?" Fergus inquired, quirking a brow as he draped an arm over her shoulder.

Elinor nodded in response to his query, and she slowly allowed her hand to move upwards, grasping his chin and turning his head ever so slightly in order to gain access to his lips. The queen lightly pressed her lips against the king's mouth, and he parted his lips ever so slightly to return her affection. After the royal couple pulled apart, Elinor stroked her beloved's bearded chin.

"I know ye well enough to tell when somethin' is on yer mind," she murmured, nuzzling her nose against his in an ursine fashion.

The king's azure eyes, which up to this point had reflected an obvious mischievousness, softened at his queen's loving tone of voice and her thick brogue.

"I _love _you, Eli," he replied in a gravelly tone, burying his face in her neck and dark curtains of hair. Fergus playfully teased his queen while lightly kissing her flesh, and he couldn't help but grin when he felt a pleasant vibration through his lips as his wife squeaked with laughter.

"Oh, Fergus, stop that!" she whispered in a sharp, pleading tone, placing her hands upon his shoulders and giving them a squeeze as she gently shoved him away, though she was beaming joyfully. Her husband gave a good-natured groan of protest as his mouth was ripped away from her neck, and he responded by kissing her temple. Elinor sighed as she managed to gain her composure. "Now, dear, what is it? What are ye tryin' to tell me?"

"I just love ye, is all," he replied smoothly, gingerly using a careful hand to neaten the tangles that were now twisted in his queen's long mane.

Really, it was true. Fergus adored Elinor more than life itself; he couldn't possibly fathom life without her. If she were to leave him, or _die _(heaven forbid), he would not be able to go on living as he had. He would starve himself until he perished, or voluntarily suffer a fatal wound – anything to avoid inhabiting the earth without his love for a single day.

"Mhmm," she mumbled quietly with a tired smile, slowly shutting her eyes.

"What, don't ye love me back?" Fergus purred, tightening his grip of her. She opened her eyes once more, offering him an incredulous gaze.

"Of _course _I do," she insisted wholeheartedly, placing a quick kiss upon his nose. "Don't ask such a thing."

She raised a finger to his lips as he leaned in to kiss her, stopping him in his pursuits. He furrowed his brow, anxious to show affection towards his queen.

"Was _that _what was on yer mind?" she inquired gently.

"Aye, dear, it's just that I love ye." he replied as he reached beneath the covers, bringing her hand up to his face and kissing her fingers, giving each one the attention he had given the last. "M'lady."

Elinor chuckled modestly at his flattery. "Well, then, if that's all," she responded in a soft, nearly inaudible voice, "I love you, as well. Perhaps, even more." As she began to succumb to sleep's clutches, she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Her breathing soon became quiet, and in the midst of her slumber, she turned her head and buried her face in the crevice of her husband's neck. She proceeded to shift her entire body, snuggling closer to the man she adored as she made herself comfortable.

"It isn't possible, my love," Fergus replied in a gentle whisper, embracing his wife as he used his arm to bring her closer to him, which was a nearly impossible feat.

Fergus had simply been inclined to remind Elinor of his feelings for her. He'd nearly lost her within a matter of days. With a rash decision on his part, their children would have been without a mother, their kingdom without a queen, and the king himself would have been left without his love.

No one outside the clan had the knowledge that King Fergus had nearly lost his wife some years before, more than likely due to the fact that it was never spoken about. It was far too painful for Fergus to mention, and he feared that agonizing memories may resurface if he even attempted to.

The king glanced over at his bride, who was safely cuddled up to him at this moment, and he gently kissed her forehead. To his joy, her skin was pleasantly cool to the touch, and as he brushed back a tendril of hair that hung in the eyes of the beautiful woman snuggled close to him, Fergus allowed his mind to wander toward the dark memories of Elinor's pregnancy with the triplets. The outcome had been horrifically grim at the time, which was the reason why the king rarely recollected the birth of Hamish, Hubert, and Harris.

* * *

Fergus lovingly draped a brisk, dampened cloth over Elinor's forehead, and she hummed in contentment at his touch. Her amber eyes fluttered open and gazed up at him graciously, and the king, at the sight of his wife's clouded and weary orbs, leaned down to kiss her. She made an effort to respond to his passion with what little strength she could possibly muster, and that was quite satisfactory for her concerned husband.

Seconds later, her entire body wracked with a shudder, and he unlocked their lips, alarmed. Thinking quickly and relying on pure instinct, he yanked up the thick blankets and tucked them tightly around her, swallowing a lump in his throat as her shivering caused the bed to quake.

"Th-th-thank you, d-darling," she murmured, turning her head away from him and beginning to cough quietly.

"Oh, Elinor," Fergus moaned in distress, hastily peeling off his bearskin cape and wrapping it around her.

As the queen at last caught her breath, she raised a trembling hand and brought it to his face, caressing his chiseled features. Fergus remained silent, blinking back stubborn tears. He had to stay brave – for Elinor. For his love, he would do _anything._

"Everything is goin' to be fine, Fergus," Elinor insisted in a somewhat raspy voice, managing a smile as she massaged her swollen, protruding stomach. "I'm fine, the wee bairn is fine. Don't worry about either of us."

"I can't help it, Elinor!" Fergus exclaimed, dabbing the damp cloth against his wife's blazing skin. "Och, ye're burnin' up..." he observed anxiously, gently stroking her forehead.

"A-am I?" she mused weakly, bringing a hand to her head.

Fergus turned away from her, burying his face in his hands as his beloved wife suffered through yet another fit of coughing. It subsided after what felt like eons to the frantic king, and he gave a low, grieving moan.

"F-Fergus," Elinor mumbled anxiously, grabbing on to his kilt, "don't leave me."

Her husband spun around, pulling a nearby stool over to the bed and sitting down upon it.

"Oh, no, no, Eli!" he professed, lifting her hand and placing a kiss upon it. "'Course I won't! I _promise_ I won't leave ye."

Elinor's lips curved into a smile as dimples graced her rosy, flushed cheeks.

"I love you," she whispered nearly inaudibly, wincing as her eyes slowly shut and she took a deep, raspy breath.

A moment of silence passed, and the king persisted with a whisper of his wife's name. To his horror, he came to the realization that her hand had become limp in his, and he anxiously gave it a squeeze.

"Elinor? _Elinor? Elinor!" _he cried, quickly rising his feet. He leaned down, pressing his lips repetitively to hers in an effort to somehow revive his ailing queen.

A single tear rolled down his cheek and landed upon her skin, and she moaned softly, wrinkling her nose as she slowly opened her eyes.

"_Fergus," _she murmured, and the king gasped, hurriedly kissing the moisture away. "What happened?"

"Y-ye just drifted off for a moment, my darlin'," Fergus replied hastily, instantly blinking back his tears. He couldn't allow his wife to catch on to the fact that he was close to bawling. "How are ye feelin'?" He silently chastised himself – what a moronic question.

"I'm so _cold, _Fergus,_" _she murmured, her voice frail and sickly.

As she once more began to shiver, her husband faithfully fetched yet another heavy quilt for her, draping it over her body and tucking it snugly around her. Though Fergus knew that, when the baby finally came, all of these extra layers cocooning the queen would have to be shed, he couldn't afford to allow her to be uncomfortable any longer than she had to be.

"Elinor, I'm goin' to tend to our wee lass," he informed her. He couldn't allow Merida to see her mother in this condition. For their daughter's sake, he had to keep her distracted for just a bit longer. "I'll be back before ye know it. Try to get some rest, now, love."

Elinor slowly nodded her heavy head, and Fergus leaned down to kiss her before taking his leave, quietly tiptoeing across the room in an effort to avoid disturbing his beloved. One of the castle servants instantly approached him, offering a quick bow before speaking.

"Sire, we've received a delivery from the village. I-I took the liberty of signin' for it." the man stammered, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Fergus furrowed his brow at the servant's nervous behavior, looking beyond him as he caught sight of several of his men lugging a large wooden object towards them. As they grew nearer, the king's heart nearly stopped beating as he came to terms with what exactly they were bringing towards him.

"What is this?!" he demanded in a roar, bounding towards the two servants struggling to carry the freshly-carved coffin. One of them nearly collapsed beneath its weight, but the king apprehended them, firmly placing both of his massive hands on either side of the casket. _"What is this?!" _he reiterated, his lungs releasing an empowered, enraged bellow.

"Th-this? W-well, Yer Majesty, er-erm, th-this was just prepared in c-c-case of-"

"_Shut it!" _hollered Fergus, snatching the coffin away from them and hurling it forcefully at the ground. The sumptuously crafted wood splintered as it slammed down upon the stone floor. The king growled through gritted teeth, "It won't be needed." He darted his eyes between each member of the small congregation. "Now, listen to me, all of ye! The queen is well, and everythin' is grand!" he snapped, glaring at the cowering servants before him.

"Y-yes, Sire," they all squeaked, and Fergus nodded swiftly.

He pushed past them as their mouths gaped, and he retreated to his daughter's room. He rapped lightly on the door with his knuckles, making his entrance as the princess gave him permission to enter. The lass lay sprawled out upon her bed, sketching a picture of Angus on parchment paper with a quill and ink.

"That's a lovely drawin' ye've got there, Merida, but I can't say yer mum would approve of havin' an inkwell on yer bed." the king chuckled as he approached her.

"Has the babby come yet, Dad?" the bubbly princess inquired, glancing up at her father with sparkling, blue eyes.

"'M afraid not yet, darlin'," Fergus sighed, gently toying with her red curls, "but it won't be long now."

"I'm goin' to check up on Mum," she chimed, her freckled face falling in a frown as her father abruptly protested.

"Erm, not now, love. Yer mum is fast asleep. I'll check up on her for ye, and ye'll be the first to know when the wee babe gets here, eh?" he said with a smile, embracing his child as she outstretched her arms.

"Don't forget!" she reminded him giddily.

King Fergus left his daughter in her solitude as he battled with his own inner qualms and inhibitions. He could only hope that this child would arrive soon. Elinor's fever remained persistent; no matter what action was taken, it continued to blaze, refusing to be defeated. She was so very brave; he knew she would pull through. She had to, for he didn't know what he would do if she fell to this adversity.

"Elinor, love?" he whispered as he entered their bedchamber, his mouth curving into a grin at the sight of his love. At the sound of her soft moans, Fergus inhaled with a rapid gasp, hurrying to her bedside and seizing her hand. _"Eli?"_

Elinor's glassy, amber eyes slowly fluttered open, and she offered her frantic husband a weak smile.

"Fergus?" she whispered questioningly, and she squinted, as if she could scarcely recognize the man before her. "Is that... _you?"_ she inquired, entirely unsure of herself.

"Aye, Elinor, it's me!" Fergus cried, planting kisses upon her crimson flesh. He removed the cloth from her heated forehead and placed it on the bedside table, brushing back strands of her hair to once more kiss her blazing skin.

"Oh, darling, I'm _so_ happy to see ye," she murmured lovingly, reaching up a hand to gingerly fondle his curly hair. "You were gone for such a long while..."

"Love, I only left ye for a moment!" Fergus exclaimed, worriedly stroking her cheek. She was imminently growing delirious, a horrifying fact that sent an unpleasant chill up the king's spine. He sustained his composure after blinking back stubborn tears, and he sighed ruefully, "Ye're goin' to be alright, ye hear me? J-just fine..."

"Dear, I don't feel all that well," Elinor whispered, sharply inhaling as she began to gasp for air. Fergus stroked her forehead, which was now slick with sweat, and tenderly kissed her lips.

"I know, Eli, I know. I'm doin' all I can for ye. Just a wee bit longer, darlin', I know ye can do it. Ye're my brave lass. It'll all be over soon." He choked up at the possible double meaning of his words, and he hastily stammered, "Y-yer labor, love. Our new babby will be born soon."

The corners of Elinor's mouth lifted into a subtle smile, and suddenly, she began to whimper, breathing in and out with quick, sharp gasps. The queen seized her husband's hand, her ineffable strength nearly squeezing the life out of him. He laced his fingers with hers, offering her a knowing yet terrified expression.

"Fergus," she breathed, beads of sweat rapidly trickling down her forehead, "I-I'm scared."

The king was taken aback at the sincerity of the queen's words. Her amber eyes reflected sheer terror, as did his. But, the faithful husband knew exactly how to respond in a situation as dire as this.

"I-it's alright, Elinor," he said gently, wincing as she gripped his hand until her knuckles turned white.

Her mouth gaped as she tossed her head back upon her pillow, her chest heaving with heavy, gasping breaths. A tortured moan echoed throughout the cozy room, and Fergus gently cradled his wife's head in his palm. Elinor's eyes widened like saucers as they welled with tears. The drops began to cascade in rivulets down her cheeks, and the king grasped her chin with a gentle caress.

"Hang in there, Eli! Don't ye dare give up on me!" he pleaded, his voice straining over her empowered moans. He turned his head and loosed a bellowing cry for aid, and he prayed his call would be answered. Fergus couldn't take the risk of leaving his beloved unattended, not when she was in this condition. If she were to slip into unconsciousness while he was absent, and then never return... he didn't wish to think about it.

"F-Fergus, I-" Elinor squeaked in a whisper, being interrupted as the midwife and dozens of other members of the expeditiously growing congregation entered the room.

The plump and trusted midwife retreated to the queen's bedside and laid a cool hand upon Elinor's dampened forehead.

"Hot as anythin'," she muttered nervously under her breath, glancing up at the king, who knelt at the queen's side at this moment. The older woman observed Fergus as he lovingly kissed his ailing wife's cheek, unable to resist smiling at the sight of the unbelievably fatigued monarch who lay bundled up in blankets returning her love's passion. The queen _was_ very ill; normally, she wouldn't dare show such emotional passion around an audience.

"Is there _any _way to bring her fever down?" anxiously pressed a nurse as she whispered in the midwife's ear.

"'Fraid not, lass," the woman replied in a hushed tone, clearing her throat as she caught a glimpse of the king glaring stonily at her. She addressed him, "My good king, we'll have the queen right as rain again in no time at all, don't ye worry."

The king averted his gaze back to his wife, who had closed her eyes and sported an expression that alerted him to her discomfort. He tenderly massaged her temples with a pair of massive yet gentle hands, and her skin burned at his touch. She appeared to be recovering from her chills, which made an undeniable amount of sense to Fergus, as he quite literally feared she may combust at any moment.

"Fergus..." she moaned once more, and the king could scarcely pick up her weakened voice over the bustling crowd in the room as they quickly went to work.

"Aye, darlin'? What is it? Ye know ye can tell me anythin'! Do ye need somethin'? A drink of water? Somethin' to nibble on? A-another blanket? Are ye w-warm enough?" As he realized he was rambling, he stopped for a breath, and his queen lifted her eyelids to gaze up at him with a slight, weak smile.

"Sweetheart... promise me somethin'..." she murmured, moaning in agony as the midwife began to shed her numerous layers of covers.

"_Anything, _Elinor!" Fergus cried, lovingly touching her flushed cheek with a gentle hand. He longed for her response; the suspense of her query was entirely too much for him.

"Ye must promise me... th-that if I don't come through this-"

"_No, _Elinor! _No! _I don't want to hear this!" he whimpered, falling to his knees and burying his face in her pillow. He felt her delicate hand begin to toy with his ginger curls as he lamented, doing everything in his power to avoid breaking down before her and the other women gathered in their room.

"Fergus, darling. If, by chance, I don't get to see our daughter again, I want ye to tell our wee lass that I love her... s-so very much."

Her king seized her hand and brought it to his lips. As he responded with a sincere nod, he lovingly kissed her palm, and proceeded to lift his head, locking their tearful eyes.

"Y-yes, love, I promise." he replied, kissing her forehead as she grimaced, her breaths becoming increasingly shallow.

"And, darling," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as a response to the indescribable pain she was experiencing, "I love_ you." _

"Och, Eli. M'darlin' love," he murmured, leaning in to plant a kiss upon her inviting lips. "I love you, too. M-more than anythin', lass. Ye know that, don't ye?

Elinor chuckled slightly, responding with a weak nod as her breaths continued to grow more and more labored.

"I do, dear. I know all of our subjects view their queen to be so very well with words," she whispered weakly, "b-but I can't find the words to say how much I adore ye." She grimaced and moaned in protest to the midwife's actions, lifting her head ever so slightly to glance at the woman at the foot of their bed.

"Eli, _please,_" the king pleaded, echoing his wife's disturbed moan, "ye _must _save yer strength!"

If Elinor ever hoped to pull through, the king was entirely certain that she had to conserve every bit of her willpower.

"I need more access to the queen, Sire!" insisted the midwife in a shriek, beginning to rip back the sheets of the bed. "The babe could get here any minute, Yer Majesties!"

"Do anythin' ye must!" snapped the king. He leaned in to whisper comforting words to his queen as the midwife hastily obliged. "Eli, listen to me. You and I, we're out on a picnic with our Merida... can ye picture it?"

"Mmm, the glen's gorgeous this time of year, my love," whispered Elinor with a nod, smiling ever so slightly. "Look at our darling... our darling Merida..."

Fergus couldn't be sure whether or not Elinor was simply suffering from delirium as a result of her ravaging fever, but he truthfully paid no mind. As long as he was able to distract his beloved for whatever time he could afford, he would go along with any delusion she experienced.

"Aye, she's as lovely as you, darlin'." he replied, lightly placing kisses upon her face. "Smell the snowdrops, and the bluebells, and the poppies... are they still yer favorite, love?"

"Yes, dear," his queen murmured, his hand slowly growing limp in his as she began to drift off.

"Eli, Eli, stay awake, for me!" pleaded the king, and his wife slowly opened her twinkling, amber eyes. Fergus breathed a sigh of relief as she did so, and, moments later, winced as she abruptly tightened her grip of his hand. Though her fingernails raked and dug into his skin as she squeezed, her husband couldn't have been more pleased at her vigor. Fergus showered her crimson face with kisses as she produced a shrill, powerful shriek, and he caressed her cheek with his free hand in an effort to comfort her.

As the midwife lifted up the skirt of the queen's bloodied gown, a gasp arose from her, and the king snapped his head toward the sound. The woman's wrinkled face brightened, and she gave a quick, furious nod.

"Just a wee bit more!" she cried, hastily grabbing a towel from a nearby pair of hands.

"Did ye hear that, Elinor?" inquired Fergus, excitement brimming in his voice. His wife didn't hear him, however, as she continued to inhale and exhale with heaving breaths, at last producing yet another crescendo of a scream as the midwife demanded her to summon her valor and begin to push. The delivery process was imminent.

Fergus supportively dabbed Elinor's forehead, soaked with sweat from her toil, with a cloth he had retrieved from the bedside table, and patted her hand lovingly.

"Won't be long now, lass," he assured her with a whisper in her ear, nuzzling her cheek with his mouth and nose.

His wife's chest continued to rise and fall with rapid, heaving breaths; her lungs fiercely empowered a piercing scream, and as it faded out into a tortured moan, the midwife began to screech.

"We're nearly there, Queen Elinor! Stay with us a wee bit more!" she pleaded, wiping her own brow with the back of her hand.

_"Oh, I can't do this, Fergus!"_ cried the queen, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. Fergus instantly brushed them away with his thumbs.

"Yes, ye can, Elinor! Ye can and ye must!" he ordered anxiously, grabbing her hand in an effort to somehow alleviate her pain. The torture she was experiencing was emanating from within her, causing the frantic king to feel nothing but sympathy and fear. "Do it for me, Elinor! Do it for our _Merida!" _Fergus was entirely certain that the fair princess, as lovely a lass as she was, couldn't grow into a gorgeous young lady without the stunning example of her mother.

"Just a bit more, my queen!" shouted the midwife frantically.

"_C'mon, _darlin'!" pleaded Fergus, giving his wife's hand a squeeze.

Elinor gritted her teeth, and with a final, chilling scream, gripped her husband's hand as she gathered all of the strength she could possibly muster. A maddening moment of silence passed by before a shrill crying filled the room. Fergus momentarily locked eyes with the midwife, whose face reflected sheer ecstasy.

"Th-there's more than just the one, Sire!" she squealed, gently handing the first baby to one of the nurses at her side.

The king observed the child as it was taken to be cleaned up. He had just caught a glimpse of its pink, round face, but he had already fallen in love with the tiny creation.

"What was that, dear?" Elinor asked of him, and her faithful husband turned his attention back to his wife.

"Oh, Elinor!" he cried, rapidly kissing her face. "We're not quite done yet! Isn't it grand, lass?!"

He was silenced as his beloved grimaced with a low moan, and yet another glorious sound graced his ears. Wailing echoed through the bedchamber, and Fergus sensed his heart beginning to pump with anticipation.

"King Fergus, Queen Elinor, ye've got twins..." chuckled the midwife. However, she gasped just seconds later. "W-well, ye _did _have twins..."

Fergus and Elinor both inhaled sharply, instantly fearing the worst for the new additions to their family.

"What's happened to the babby?!" demanded Elinor frantically as her head snapped up, and she hastily began crying, innumerable tears rolling down her cheeks. _"N-no! _It_ can't _be! Oh,_ Fergus, _our wee_ bairn!"_

Fergus instinctively began comforting his sobbing love, leaning over her and pleading for her to calm down as he embraced her unconditionally.

"Eli, Eli, there now! It's goin' to be alright!" he assured her, giving a sniff as he held back his own tears. "We're still a family-"

"I _knew _somethin' like this would happen!" Elinor shrieked in agony, and Fergus feared that if she didn't become calmed, she would fall unconscious out of her sheer, unrelenting exhaustion. She rolled over upon her side, burying her face in his chest.

"Elinor, _please!" _Fergus moaned, gripping her hand.

The queen's lithe form heaved with her crying, and as her husband lovingly rubbed her back, the midwife cleared her throat, revealing to the distraught monarchs the two additional, screaming infants whom she cradled in her arms. The two wailing children appeared to be feeding directly off of their mother's bawling.

"E-Elinor, love, would ye look at _that!" _the king exclaimed as he beamed ecstatically, raising his wife's chin with a gentle hand and gesturing towards the new arrivals. The queen produced a soft sniff as her amber eyes fell upon their children, and her joyful husband began showering her with affection. Her expression suffused with relief and euphoria as the babies were taken out of the room to be tended to.

"_Thank goodness," _Elinor breathed, bringing a hand to her heart as she allowed her head, which felt incredibly heavy in the midst of her fatigue, to land upon her pillow.

"Oh, Elinor! _Elinor!" _tenderly crooned Fergus, planting kisses all over his wife's moistened face. He caressed her visage as his precious lass began to alternate between giggling and panting, lightly stroking her cheeks with his thumbs as he placed yet another affectionate kiss upon her forehead. Her body was gradually cooling down, much to his relief. He shook his head incredulously, a bright grin plastered upon his whiskered face. "Och, darlin', I've never seen anyone as brave as _you. _Not in my entire life. I'm so _proud _of ye."

"I don't think I could have done it without ye," Elinor replied quietly, and her husband shook his head with a smile.

"Oh, yes, ye could've." he purred, leaning down to provide her with even more affection, a delicacy which his wife wholeheartedly accepted.

She gave a tearful laugh as he pressed his lips to hers, and even as they split apart, Fergus hastily initiated another kiss. After a moment of passionate silence, during which time the royal couple shared their kiss, the king began tucking the cozy sheets around his beloved. Gently, he placed a hand upon her forehead, then brought his palm to his.

"Ye're still a bit warm, love, but yer fever's goin' down." he murmured lovingly, exhaling with a sigh of relief. He squatted beside their bed, touching his forehead affectionately to hers as he mussed her chestnut strands of hair. "Ye had me scared there for a while, Elinor. Ye don't know how happy I am to see ye gettin' well again."

Fergus lightly kissed Elinor's nose as the queen feigned surprise. "Fergus? My husband, the bear king? _Scared?" _she scoffed, gesturing with her hand as she visually dismissed his comment. "I won't hear of it."

Fergus donned a cheeky grin. "C'mere, ye darlin' thing, you." he whispered as he affectionately embraced his love, and the woman in his arms gave a dreamily contented sigh.

A voice suddenly addressed them, and the two monarchs glanced up as the visitor cleared her throat.

"Er, I do hope I'm not interruptin' anythin'," the midwife said with a chuckle, "but I'd like to introduce ye to yer sons."

"_Sons?" _the king responded, incredulous. He glanced down at his wife as she offered him an adoring yet incredibly fatigued smile. Fergus kissed his wife's hand before rising to his feet to retrieve the bundles cradled in the midwife's arms.

The proud father smiled and thanked the woman as she gently placed the three wailing princes in his arms. She then backed silently out of the room, shooing away the dozens of inhabitants of the castle DunBroch eavesdropping at the door. As the bedroom door clicked shut, the king, juggling the three squirming boys, retreated once more to his wife's side, leaning down to briefly kiss her cheek before continuing to marvel over their new sons.

"Elinor, love, three wee lads!" he exclaimed, grinning sheepishly at his beloved as their babies began to cry louder and in piercing unison.

"Oh, Fergus, they're precious," whispered Elinor as her husband strode over to his side of their bed and crawled atop the mattress to be beside her. Carefully, he placed one of the princes on the queen's lap and the two remaining lads on his own.

Elinor, her inherent maternal instincts rousing, began to nurse the first baby boy as her gleeful husband interacted with the other two lads. The boys, who, much to their parents' joy, had begun to calm down and silence their crying, and two of the three gazed up at their father with inquisitive yet trusting gazes, while the other cooed and babbled contentedly at his mother's loving touch.

Two pairs of soft, blue eyes locked with the king's, and Fergus released a hearty chuckle as he caressed his sons' freckled faces.

"Aren't they the spittin' image of their dad, Eli?" Fergus inquired of his wife, who kissed the forehead of the cooing baby in her arms.

"Aye, they certainly are," she murmured softly, closing her eyes with a sigh.

Her loving husband replaced the baby who was currently in her arms with the next, as both of the proud parents wished to provide their three new arrivals with as much nourishment and attention as possible.

"How do ye s'pose we'll tell 'em apart, darlin'?" Fergus inquired as he coddled the newborns in his arms.

"I'm their mother, dear. I'll be able to tell." Elinor replied vaguely, tickling beneath her son's chin as he cooed to the woman he indeed recognized as his mother.

"Well, _I'm_ their father!" the king exclaimed, a sinking feeling brewing at the pit of his stomach. "A-aren't I, Elinor? _E-Eli?!"_

His wife giggled softly. "Oh, believe me, ye are." she assured him, her thick brogue assuaging his uneasiness with the use of an adoring tone. "Their resemblance to ye is uncanny."

Elinor truthfully found it quite endearing that a notion such as this would even come into her love's mind for an instant.

Fergus breathed a heavy sigh of relief, kissing his wife's cheek as she gently handed the satisfied prince over to his father. The king, in turn, carefully placed the final boy in his wife's arms, and as she allowed the child to nurse, she lovingly caressed his cheek with a delicate hand, rocking him back and forth as he began to give quiet whimpers.

"There, now, ye wee thing. Ye're just like yer father, aren't ye?" she chuckled, nuzzling her face against her baby's. As the infant finished, his toothless mouth gaped with a yawn. Elinor echoed his yawn with one of her own, which she made a futile attempt to muffle.

Fergus chuckled deeply, quickly leaning in to kiss her neck before taking the baby out of her arms.

"Och, I can't believe that I nearly forgot!" he exclaimed as he slapped his forehead, surprising himself at his lack of recognition for his precious daughter. She had been so patient and mature through all of this; he was nearly as proud of her as he was of his wife for enduring such a cumbersome ordeal.

"Darling, where are ye off to?" murmured the queen in puzzlement as she readjusted her gown.

"Just ye wait, love!" Fergus assured her, carefully gathering the three triplet boys into his arms and delivering them unto the crib in front of the hearth. "They barely fit, Eli! We'll need to be gettin' a new bed for 'em for sure!" he marveled with a laugh, turning his head to smile lovingly at their watchful mother. Fergus retreated to his wife's bedside, pecking the exhausted woman's cheek before scampering rambunctiously out of the room.

Elinor turned her head to admire the tiny crib where her children lay, rolling over on to her side as she settled her head upon her pillow. Her heavy eyelids persistently threatened to close; there were no earthly words she could possibly use to describe the relentless exhaustion that had been inflicted upon her. Just as her eyes fluttered shut, the babbling of her infant sons caused her to stir, and the glorious voice of her beloved daughter graced her ears.

"Mummy?" Merida inquired anxiously of the queen, grabbing her mother's hand. Elinor opened her eyes, blinking several times as the fuzzy image of her daughter came into view and became clear.

"Merida, darling," weakly whispered Elinor, chuckling softly. "How are ye, love?"

"H-how am _I? _How are _you?" _her daughter persisted, furrowing her brow with concern.

"Oh, I'm fine, dear." the queen murmured, slowly closing her eyes again. "I'm just..." she yawned softly, lightly squeezing her daughter's hand as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "...a wee bit... drowsy..."

_"Mum?"_ Merida whispered urgently, glancing back at her father as he laid a hand upon her shoulder.

"Why don't ye let yer mum rest? There's a few wee babbies I'd like to introduce ye to." Fergus crooned, leading his daughter by the shoulders over to the bassinet in the corner of the room.

"_Babbies?" _the princess chattered as she began to bounce with excitement. She gasped as she peered into the crib, clapping her hands together. "I'm a sister, Dad!" she exclaimed, chortling as her father hugged her from behind.

"Aye, to three wee lads." he affirmed joyously, kissing his daughter's ginger curls.

"I s'pose that _would _be my luck," she sighed, squeaking with laughter as Fergus feistily tickled her stomach. "Och, Daddy, I'm kiddin', I'm kiddin'!" she exclaimed, hugging her father's arms as she gazed up at him. "Have ye named 'em yet?"

"No, darlin', but yer mum and I will be discussin' it." he replied with a grin. He proceeded to inquire, "Do ye have any ideas, lass?"

"Hmm... no, Dad. I'll have to sleep on it," she said, yawning quietly.

"Alright, Merida, time for bed." Fergus chuckled, lovingly guiding his daughter out of the royal bedchamber and down the hall to her room. As they arrived at their destination, the princess offered her father a toothy smile, and the king and princess exchanged a warm embrace as they bid one another a loving good night.

With a wide grin, the king strolled back to the room that he and the queen (and, presently, three impish little boys) shared. He inconspicuously pushed the door open, beaming even brighter at the sight of his beloved wife at last engaging in a fulfilling, deep sleep upon their bed.

Silently, he crept over to their bed, peeling off his kilt and dressing for bed before crawling beneath the sheets with his love. As he settled down beside her, he gazed intently at her flushed visage with a pair of entranced, blue eyes, lovingly laying a hand upon her soft, velvet cheek and stroking it gently. Lightly, he kissed her forehead, offering his wife a smile as her amber eyes fluttered open. His heart pleasantly leaped as she returned his simper, closing her eyes once more as he kissed her.

* * *

Fergus lay silently, admiring his sleeping wife just as he did those several years before, listening intently to her steady, healthy breathing; he would see to it that he would continue to do so for the rest of his days.

Elinor stirred in his arms, opening her eyes and capturing his gaze. "Ye're _still_ awake, love? Are ye unable to sleep?" she inquired, worriedly bringing a hand to her husband's face.

"I've just been thinkin'..." he mused vaguely, kissing her nose. "Just about odds and ends... ye know."

Elinor raised a brow but sighed nevertheless before kissing him upon the lips. "Good night, dear," she murmured, rolling over to face away from him.

"G'night, love," Fergus replied gently, folding his arms across his chest as he exhaled. Several moments of silence passed before the king spoke up, finally admitting to what was on his mind. "Eli. Do ye... do ye ever think about, well... havin' another babe?" he asked, his tone hopeful. He observed his queen as she slowly rolled back over to face him, and he offered her a sheepish grin.

"Fergus... do _you?" _she inquired, eying him with a subtle intrigue.

"Well, I dunno..." he grunted, giving a shrug. "I don't really want to risk takin' the chance of somethin' like what ye went through last time happenin' again." He brought a hand awkwardly to the nape of his neck, averting his eyes away from hers as he uncomfortably cleared his throat.

Elinor gave a soft, giddy laugh as she snuggled closer to him, amorously rubbing his chest as she did so. "Oh, don't worry, Fergus. As long as ye're there, I'll be able to manage."

She nuzzled his face rather achingly, and the king's stomach fluttered at the prospect of the possibilities of the future.

* * *

**Foreshadowing?  
**

**Hmm... perhaps. ;)**


	22. A Wee Stroll

A Wee Stroll

_While on a pleasant walk through the glen, Elinor and Fergus cross paths for the second time, much to the princess' discontent. Will she be able to begin warming up to him? Or will his attempts at gaining her_ _attention be all for naught?_

* * *

Princess Elinor cherished the time she spent out of doors, especially when the weather was exceptionally favorable. She had set out on foot that morning without the company of her trusted mare, Annabel, and immediately took the chance to fill her lungs with the fresh, mountain air.

Fortunately, it had been a number of days since she'd last come across that boy. What was his name? Fergus. Yes, Fergus, she was sure of that. She had a habit of never forgetting a face, and that particular freckled, devilish visage was permanently burned into her mind. Elinor was quite joyful over the fact that he had made himself scarce, and that, if all went according to plan, he wouldn't be disturbing her on this fine day. Without a care in the world, she continued on her merry way.

Elinor wandered aimlessly about during her stroll, taking the chance every so often to bend a twig or two to mark her path. She glanced skywards, smiling at the sight of the sunlight peeking and sparkling through the swaying, thick canopy of leaves, and she released a soft sigh, at ease with the world.

The princess casually bent down to pluck a nearby poppy from amidst the lush blades of grass, finding solace upon the green knoll. Elinor reclined upon the grass with a sigh of contentment, hugging the flower to her chest. It certainly was a _perfect _day – no lessons, no restrictions, no rules. Of course, she _was_ one to abide by all three of these limitations, but she rarely had days such as these, and she therefore spent them as freely as she wished.

Life in the glen was abundant, yet the princess had never heard the woods to quiet and peaceful. The rustling of the leaves swaying in the canopy of the trees, performing a dance for her and her alone, enchanted Elinor. The sound of the breezes leading the branches in a waltz was music to the princess' ears, and she closed her eyes in her state of complete and utter tranquility. Surely, no one could ruin this gorgeous day for her – not if she could control it.

Elinor was suddenly and severely startled by a sudden, perky voice, jolting her awake just as she was about to drift into a light but pleasant slumber. With a brief exclamation and a gasp, she arose from where she lay upon the grass in an instant, offering a scowl to the intruder. An upside down Fergus hovered just above her, and the lad burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Scared ye, didn't I?" he mocked her, quirking a brow as he folded his arms across his chest. Elinor simply continued to frown, mirroring the lad as she folded her own pair of arms. "Speechless, are ye?" he chuckled as he continued, offering her a smug grin. Casually, he inquired, "So, lass, how've ye been?"

Elinor was not in the slightest bit amused in his attempt at small talk. "Goodbye, Fergus," she sighed, rising to her feet and beginning the long walk away from him. She briefly glanced back over her shoulder, quickly facing forward again as he smiled in satisfaction. "Och," she muttered under her breath, gracefully moving along.

Reluctantly, she looked back a final time, donning a suspicious yet puzzled expression as she came to the realization that the boy had disappeared. She remained frozen at her stance for a brief moment, contemplating what exactly she should do in this situation. Without a doubt, the boy would try _something. _Though, perhaps not. She had to have some faith in him. She wasn't a _completely_ cynical lass.

Elinor faced forward and began to walk again, taking long strides, only to release an uncouth shriek as the lad dove down, suspending himself in the air using his legs. He hung upside down directly in front of her nose. She brought a hand to her heart, heaving with breaths in her anxiety.

"Quite ladylike, princess," he laughed, snorting. "_Quite."_

"Lad, I don't want to hear any of it," Elinor chided coldly, brushing past him with swift, deft motion. The princess froze moments later, reaching her hands up to her head and making grabbing motions. She spun around, studying him up and down. "I haven't the time for any of yer games," she sighed exasperatedly. The princess ordered, "Give me what's rightfully mine. Come, now."

After the lass gestured for him to return her snatched tiara, Fergus donned an astounded gaze and pointed to himself. "Wh-what? _Me? _C'mon, lass, I'm not _that _kinda lad."

She continued to scowl at him, her amber eyes drilling into his soul. He felt as if he were withering away by the lass' persistent gaze. At last, he sighed, flipping over and landing on the ground. The young lord reluctantly handed over the princess' tiara.

"Thank ye," she snapped, snatching it from his hands and turning her back to him. She began taking large strides to increase her distance from the incorrigible lad, and he eventually caught up to her, stepping in front of her and blocking her way. She huffed, firmly placing her hands upon her hips. "I beg yer pardon, but if ye'd be so kind as to-"

"Say, what brings ye out into the glen on a lovely day such as this?" he inquired nonchalantly of her, ignoring any and all of her attempts to avoid conversation. He began strolling casually beside his companion as she bunched her skirts in her hands, desperately trying to shuffle her feet in a swifter fashion, thereby increasing the distance between them.

"Is that really any of yer business?" Elinor replied shortly, quickening her pace all the more in order to cease her acquaintance's pursuing of her. The boy began to jog, chuckling all the while.

"Och, there's gotta be a reason, uh, erm..." he stammered, evidently drawing blank. The princess halted, spinning around to face him with an entirely unamused gaze.

"_Elinor. _Princess Elinor of Macdonald. Displeased to make yer acquaintance... _once again."_ she said with a curtsy, furrowing her brow. She pointed a finger to his chest. "And _you,_ lad, are Fergus of DunBroch, renowned throughout the land for trickery and mischief." She finished with a folding of her arms, smirking vainly at him.

"Aye, aye, ye're a lady of _great _virtue and the sort," Fergus chimed, attempting to mimic her dainty brogue. He then bellowed with an amused laugh, beaming with a toothy grin. "Ye're good at readin' people, aren't ye?" he inquired, mirroring her defiant expression and pose as she rolled her amber eyes. "Hey, do ye think I could call ye 'Eli', lass? Uh-huh, that suits ye, alright-"

"You may refer to me as 'Yer Ladyship'," Elinor retorted rather superciliously, frowning as Fergus shook his head.

"Hm, no, I think Eli takes the cake." he insisted, grinning with satisfaction at her sour expression. "Speakin' of cake, I could use a wee tart right about now..."

"Good day to ye, Fergus," Elinor sighed, turning on her heels and walking in the opposite direction. She faintly picked up the sound of the boy's sigh.

"Aye, that's fine," he said gloomily, kicking up dust with his boot. "I don't expect ye to want my company."

Elinor sensed a feeling of guilt wash over her, but she instantly shook it from her subconscious, immediately recognizing Fergus' attempts to win her over.

Fergus persisted. "Eh, I don't think wanderin' off by yerself is such a grand idea, lassie."

Elinor turned around at this remark. "And _why _is that?" she ventured, turning her nose up at him as he approached. She anxiously awaited his answer, as she had no doubt that it would be hastily put together.

"I dunno, just that any creature on four legs would jump at the chance to gobble up a fine lady such as yerself..." the boy said vaguely, staring straight into Elinor's amber eyes. A subtle fear, he noticed, was slowly forming within them. He smirked at her.

"Oh, ye're impossible!" she snapped, placing her hands defiantly upon her hips.

Fergus chortled. "_Am _I, now? Eh, I s'pose ye're right. Ye're _royalty, _after all! And what am I? Nothin' but a lonely lad makin' a livin' off the streets, hm?"

"Now, I didn't say-" Elinor began, furrowing her brow as the boy sniffled.

"_Oh, woe is me!" _he whined, his lip protruding in a pout. He allowed his lower lip to tremble ever so slightly. "Oh, I'm flattered that a princess could possibly take pity on lad such as myself." He mussed his red mop of hair as his blue eyes became filled with excitement. "Hey, do ye think that, well, ye could make me a jester, or somethin'? Put in a good word to yer old man for me?"

Elinor opened her mouth to speak and raised a finger as she prepared to reprimand him for his rowdy, presumptuous conduct, but she restrained herself as she caught a glimpse of his thoroughly smug, freckled face. She inhaled through her nose and exhaled throughout her mouth, slowly shutting her eyes as she did so. The princess turned her back to the young lord, pursing her lips as she continued to blow out her long, sustained breath.

"Ye're a _lady,_ Elinor... a lady does _not _raise her voice, nor does she encourage such foul behavior." she murmured, continuing along.

"Say, now, _what _is _this?"_ Fergus muttered in puzzlement, obviously refusing to give up with his attempts at vying for her attention.

Elinor, her starving curiosity finally piqued, slowly turned back around, glancing over her shoulder. The lad continued to mutter under his breath, scratching his head as he examined something on the ground. Elinor at last returned to him, raising a brow at him as he squatted upon the ground. She crouched beside him, and he glanced at her for a mere second before darting his eyes back down. Lightly, he traced a finger around a vague, fading footprint, glancing up at her expectantly.

"This doesn't look good," he mumbled hesitantly, shaking his head with a clicking of his tongue, "not one wee bit."

"What?" inquired Elinor, her voice brimming with an obvious interest and a subtle anxiety. "What is it?"

"Well, ye see here," he explained, gesturing at the claw marks slashed through the dust, "somethin' has clearly been followin' ye..."

"There's only a single print, Fergus," Elinor scoffed, frowning at him.

"Ha! Ye see? That's how they outwit ye. Those beasts just aim for throwin' off pretty heads such as yers, and then... well, surely ye know what happens next." He made a slashing motion across his throat.

Elinor rolled her eyes as she made an attempt to rise to her feet, and Fergus' head suddenly snapped up as he grabbed her wrist. The boy quickly ushered her behind a nearby bush, giving her a cautious yet forceful push. He slapped a hand over her mouth as she began to protest his actions, and an irritated growl escaped the princess, completely defying her inherent, ladylike nature. Fergus glanced at her with a set of serious, azure eyes.

The princess reached up her own hand and pried his paw away, making a motion to rise to her feet. "Now, what is this all about?" she demanded, shrieking as he pulled her back down.

"Shh! Get _down, _lass!" he ordered harshly, gazing sternly into her amber eyes. He exhaled as he loosened his grip of her, shaking his head in disapproval as he did so. "I swear, I will _never _understand yer kind..."

"I _beg _yer pardon!" the princess exclaimed, a shocked tone surfacing in her Scottish brogue.

"Quiet!" he snapped, demanding silence as he held up a hand. "Listen! Do ye hear that?!" he whispered, his hand beginning to tremble.

"Wha-what is it?" Elinor whispered shakily, her eyes widening with fright.

"Oh, n-n-no, it can't be!" he stammered, his chest heaving as he peeked through the bushes.

"_Fergus!" _Elinor pressed in an urgent tone, hugging her knees in an effort to remain hidden from sight.

"Don't make a sound, Elinor, it might get ye! I-it looks awful hungry!" Fergus warned, wiping sweat from his brow. "No, it's comin' after us!"

"...wh-what's out there?! Fergus, _what _is out there?!" Elinor pressed in an uneasy tone, evidently perturbed.

Fergus gulped. "It's... i-it's a..." he stammered, and the princess gasped and shielded her eyes. "...it's a... a dancin' tatty bogle!" he screeched, snorting in amusement as Elinor shrieked. He leaped from the bushes, holding his stomach as he roared with laughter. Despite his repeated attempts to catch his breath, he was unable to.

Elinor's head snapped up, and she glared at him with widened eyes, each blazing in a fiery rage. "Does this _amuse _ye?" she demanded, rising to her feet and clenching her fists at her sides.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Fergus chimed. "A lady doesn't raise her voice!"

The princess huffed, glancing down at her gown and moaning over the blemishes now peppering her otherwise flawless dress. Fergus laughed again, gazing innocently at Elinor as she locked eyes with him.

"_You _are positively... oh, don't you _dare _turn yer back on me while I'm speakin' to ye!" she admonished as she once more ventured out into the open, observing her companion as he began scampering away from her. Nimbly, he began to scale a nearby tree, clambering all the way to the top branch in the blink of an eye. "What are ye...?! Ye'll break yer neck if ye fall, Fergus!" Elinor cried, her face flushing with her impending concern. "Get down here this _instant!" _she ordered with a strain in her voice, tapping her foot as she pointed to the ground.

Fergus inched higher, laughing at Elinor's hysteric expression. "No!" he challenged, folding his arms and smirking at the panicky princess below.

"Lad, do ye want me to count to three?" she warned, frowning with an exasperated sigh as Fergus glanced knowingly at her. "Fine, then. If ye won't come down, I'm comin' up after ye."

"Go ahead!" Fergus taunted, wiggling his brows. "I'd like to see ye try!"

"I will!" she snapped back, narrowing her eyes.

"C'mon, then!" he invited, patting the branch.

Elinor bunched her skirts in her hands and stormily approached. As she arrived at the base of the towering tree, she gazed skywards and thus up at the grinning boy perched upon one of the branches. She breathed deeply, reaching a hand up to grab the lowest branch. Her fingers trembled as they established a grip of the wood, and she pulled herself up, struggling as her skirt caught upon a jagged twig. Her stockinged feet and slippers desperately tried to seek out traction, to no avail.

"Do ye need a hand?" Fergus called down, and she vigorously shook her head.

"N-no, I'm quite alright!" she responded shakily, rising weakly to her feet. Her knees nearly buckled as she achieved balance, and she began inching up to the next limb.

Fergus suppressed a stubborn, persistent chuckle. "Ye're quite the sight, lass. Have ye ever _tried _climbin' a tree?"

Elinor glanced up and scowled at him. "For yer information, I – oh!" she squeaked, losing her balance and hanging on for dear life as she clung to the branch, arms and legs wrapped tightly around the limb. She squeezed her fearful, amber eyes shut as she silently chastised herself for daring such a feat.

"_Now _do ye need help?" the boy offered, and she opened one eye, glancing down at the dizzying height.

Truthfully, it shouldn't have been all too daunting or intimidating, but Elinor was quite the novice at this practice. She shook her head, steeling her courage and pulling herself on to the branch. It swayed back and forth under her feet, and she hugged the trunk of the tree. Cautiously, she reached up her hand, grabbing on to the next limb. Stretching her body and standing on her toes, she seized the branch with both of her fists, squirming about as she struggled to pull herself up.

In an instant, her hand slipped, followed by the other, and Elinor's life flashed before her eyes. She cried out, preparing to plummet to the ground below. Fortunately for her, Fergus snagged her hands at the last second, grunting as securely established a safe grip.

"Oh, hurry, Fergus!" Elinor pleaded, glancing over her shoulder. If he was up to his usual mischief, she would personally see to it that she would have his head!

"Don't worry, I've got ye," he assured her, lifting her up to his level with ease. Elinor smiled gratefully at him, smoothing her dress as she too perched upon the branch.

"Thank you," she murmured, breathing deeply. Her heart was nearly pounding out of her chest, and she ran a hand through her chestnut tresses, removing bits and pieces of twigs and leaves.

"Eh, don't mention it." Fergus replied coolly, offering her a slight smile. "So, no trees, eh?"

_"Ladies _do not make it their priority to climb trees." Elinor said matter-of-factly, still catching her breath.

He unconsciously gave her hand a gentle squeeze, gasping and retracting his as he came to the realization that their fingers were still tightly laced together. Both of their faces conspicuously became flushed, though neither of them paid any mind. Elinor offered him a subtle but modest simper, and Fergus averted his eyes away from hers with a slight chuckle.

After a moment of silence, the princess, glancing down, was the one to speak up. "...and, how do we go about gettin' back down?"

Fergus offered her a shrug, but smiled reassuringly. He would at least have another chance to hold her hand.


	23. A Blossomed Romance

A Blossomed Romance

_Although the king can be quite clingy, his love for his queen is also quite obvious.  
_

* * *

As Queen Elinor sensed the sound of footsteps approaching, she drew a quick breath, rising slowly but gracefully to her feet as she mindfully cradled her pregnant stomach. Her heart began to race as the doorknob began to jiggle, and to her relief, Maudie the nursemaid poked her head through the slightly ajar door moments later.

"M'lady?" the plump woman said, furrowing her brow in concern. "Ye look a bit pallid – ye're all peely-wally in the face – are ye feelin' well? Might I alert the king?"

"No, no, no, Maudie!" Elinor pleaded hastily, sinking back into her chair and bringing a hand to her forehead. Maudie approached her in puzzlement.

"Is everythin' well between you and yer husband, my queen?" she inquired sympathetically of the fatigued woman before her.

Elinor glanced up with a pair of reassuring, amber eyes. "Oh, of course, Maudie. I love him dearly."

Yes, she adored him more than words could express. Yes, she deeply appreciated his support during this, her time of need. Yes, she very much relished the attention he constantly paid her and the wondrous amount of time they spent together. Yes, she was incredibly grateful for his tender love for her. But, there were times when she simply wished to be left alone in a rejuvenating silence, a delicacy of which her beloved had a habit of depriving her.

"Pardon my askin', but why, then, do ye appear to be in hidin'?" the nursemaid asked, confounded.

"It's somewhat hard to explain Maudie," Elinor sighed, "but I suppose you could say that the king has, well, been a wee bit wary of everythin' I do lately."

"Because of the wee babe?" Maudie assumed with a knowing smile, and the monarch nodded. "Well, I'm sorry, Yer Highness, but a wee birdie has informed me that the king is plannin' somethin' special for ye today." she said with a wink, bowing as she began backing toward the door. "I shan't say any more. Unless ye'd like for me to say ye're feelin' under the weather, perhaps?"

"Oh, no, Maudie. Thank ye, but I have to learn to face my own troubles." admitted the queen, smiling as the nursemaid donned a good-natured grin.

"Well, then, I'll send him up here forthwith." Maudie assured Elinor, leaving the monarch to contemplate what she would tell her husband.

No, she couldn't possibly inform the king she felt ill; that would cause him to become even more protective of her, if such a notion was at all possible. She could simply confess her feelings, but the last thing she wanted to do was hurt _his._ After all, he sincerely believed she deserved nothing but the best.

In all honesty, Queen Elinor _did _very much enjoy spending time alone with her husband, despite the fact that they spent veritably every waking moment together. Her Fergus wouldn't dare miss the birth of the first child they would have together – the heir to the throne. Her king was adoring beforehand, but his fatherly instincts had recently begun developing, and this caused his doting behavior to become even more accentuated than usual.

It wasn't long before there was knocking at the door, and Elinor's warm, inviting voice beckoned her husband into the room. His eyes filled with an unmistakable fondness as he made his entrance, and he shut the door quietly behind him.

"Hello, Eli," he greeted lovingly, strolling over to the chair in which she was settled and standing before her. He leaned down to kiss her, rubbing her protruding belly with a gentle hand. Their baby momentarily kicked, and he broke the kiss prematurely, an action he normally wouldn't think of. "Darlin', did ye feel that?! Oh, of course ye did, but... oh, our wee babby! She knows her dad already!"

Elinor giggled, "Of course the wee lamb knows, dear. They hear ye every day!" She smiled warmly at him, pulling him down on to one knee and lovingly bringing his hand to her stomach. "Ye know, I have heard that a wee babby, even before they're born, can become familiar with voices." Their eyes met after this statement; no words had to be uttered, as they both recognized the endearment of the other, but Fergus continued nevertheless.

"Have ye, now?" he marveled, becoming more zealous by the moment. "Then I'm sure she knows her mum by now, too." The king leaned in with a grin, planting a series of gentle, tender kisses upon her stomach and caressing the bulge in a soothing massage. Elinor's heart fluttered at his loving touch, and she sighed softly, closing her eyes in contentment.

"That feels wonderful, dear," she murmured, cradling his head in her hands and fondling his curly hair.

"Is there anythin' I can do to make ye more comfortable, love? Do ye want me to give yer feet a wee rub?" her husband inquired. He could easily read his wife's winces and grimaces whenever she walked, and he could only guess what torture had been put upon her tiny feet. In fact, Fergus wondered how his wife's lithe body was able to carry around that excess weight along with her; he felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy for her.

Elinor smiled warmly. "That would be _lovely,_ darling, if ye don't mind, of course..."

"'Course I don't mind, Elinor," he replied gently, busying himself with the task of removing her slippers. Tenderly, he slipped them off and allowed them to drop to the floor, revealing to him her delicate, stockinged feet. Elinor observed her husband as he cradled her foot in his rather large hand, carefully beginning to apply pressure to her sole with his thumb. "So, darlin', I thought that maybe you and I could go out on a wee picnic today. If ye're feelin' well enough, that is."

"Of course, Fergus." she replied with a loving smile.

Fergus grinned as he turned his attention to her other foot, providing it with a gentle rub. "Grand! What do ye s'pose we should take along? 'Course, ye don't have to eat anythin' if ye don't want to. I don't want ye to wind up with a case of the collywobbles..."

The king had been well-aware of his wife's sporadic cravings as of late. The changes Fergus was seeing in his love recently fascinated him. She bounced in between smiles and tears so easily. Whenever she began to cry, his heart leaped into his throat. The king could hardly bear seeing his wife this way. Seeing her tear-stained eyes broke his heart; he nearly always assumed that he had caused her to be unhappy, and he therefore experienced torture whenever her amber eyes welled and suffused with tears.

"I think a nice walk through the glen would be just _perfect," _the queen professed, rubbing her palms rhythmically over her pregnant stomach. "I'm sure our wee babby would enjoy it, as well – not to mention Annabel."

Elinor sensed that her sorrel mare had been quite restless the past few months. She'd rarely been ridden due to the queen's pregnancy, and Elinor felt terribly guilty that she had been neglecting the horse.

Fergus donned a concerned expression. "I don't know if I'm all that comfortable with ye ridin', Eli. Suppose ye fell? What would happen to the babby?" He shuddered at the thought. Surely the baby would sustain horrible damage, along with the fact that his beloved queen would most certainly be injured. Catching herself would prove difficult, for the precious cargo she carried would inhibit her from doing so successfully. "We'll take Duncan along with us, that way ye won't have to walk so far, dearest."

Elinor sighed in disappointment. She felt as if she were a captured bird; her freedom seemed to have become more and more stripped from her as time went on. Though, she could understand where her husband was coming from.

"Aye, Fergus," she replied halfheartedly, gaining his attention once more. In an instant, he was placing a gentle kiss upon her lips, and she managed a smile.

"I know ye're restless, Elinor, and I know I can't force ye to do anythin', but could ye do it for our wee one and me? I've been so worried about the both of ye."

It was true. Whenever she was out of his sight, he had to wonder what she was experiencing. Their baby could arrive at any moment, and he was beginning to develop mixed feelings. He greatly anticipated the birth of their child, but at the same time he wished that the time would never come, and that his wife would never have had to endure the troubles that went along with carrying a child.

"Oh, ye've nothin' to worry for, Fergus." she assured him, sighing in delight as her husband continued to massage.

"I can't help it, Elinor," he said quietly, marveling over how miniscule her foot was in his massive hand. "After all, I've been followin' ye around like a wee pup."

"Aye," she giggled, smiling as he looked up to gaze into her eyes – warm amber met clear azure.

"I'm sorry if I've been rubbin' ye the wrong way, Eli," he sighed, tenderly sliding her feet back into her slippers. "I get the feelin' ye've been tryin' to avoid me today," he added in a chuckle, quirking a brow at her as she frowned.

"Fergus, how could ye think such a thing?" she asked, furrowing her brow in concern. "I _love _you."

"Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes, lass," the king murmured warmly, offering her a knowing expression as she began to respond.

"Well, perhaps I've found the need for a _wee _bit of time alone..." Elinor confessed, her face falling as her husband rose to his feet.

"I'll leave ye be then," he said, turning to walk toward the door.

"Fergus, no," Elinor murmured. Her voice halted her husband in his tracks. "Do ye wish to go on an outing today?"

Her king swiveled around, grinning from ear to ear. "Are ye sure, Elinor?" he asked, returning to her and taking her hands gently in his as she rose gracefully to her feet despite the cargo she carried.

"I've never been more certain of anythin', dear," she professed in a loving tone, gesturing her head towards the door. "Shall we, then?"

"Aye," Fergus replied, placing a hand upon her stomach as he kissed her cheek. "I've a surprise for ye." Elinor offered him an incredulous yet puzzled expression, continuing to gaze into his eyes as he tucked a stubborn, loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Just trust me, love. It's worth the wait."

* * *

King Fergus kept his steed, Duncan, at an incredibly steady pace, going to great lengths to assure that Elinor would remain safe and sound. The situation would be dire if he allowed anything to happen to his wife or the unborn child that she carried, and he would be indescribably regretful if something went wrong.

Their baby's life was quite literally in his hands, as he had both of his hands kept firmly placed beneath the queen's protruding stomach, only to remove a single hand for a moment in order to direct the stallion in a different direction.

"Darling, where on earth are ye takin' us?" Elinor inquired playfully of her husband, glancing over her shoulder to offer him a coy smile.

Fergus responded with a mischievous chuckle, kissing her shoulder. "Patience, love." he stated, relishing this makeshift torture the anticipation was causing for his wife.

"Och, Fergus, ye're impossible." sighed his queen as he embraced her tighter.

"Aren't I, though?" he responded cheekily, giving her belly a gentle rub. "Ladies should practice patience," he teased, booming with a laugh as he felt their child give a healthy kick and caught the sound of Elinor's surprised gasp. "Seems as if our wee bairn is growin' restless. Must be able to sense that her mum is, eh?"

"Oh, are we nearly there, dear?" the queen huffed in her reply, glancing back at her husband in her impatience.

Fergus chuckled. "Aye, aye, we're... aye, we _are_ here!"

Cautiously, he brought the powerful stallion to a halt and slid out of the saddle. He gingerly lifted his wife from her seat, paying mind to their baby as he set her upon her feet. The queen momentarily whimpered, leaning over ever so slightly as she clutched her stomach. Fergus donned a hysteric expression, grasping her shoulders with his massive hands out of sheer distress. His heart leaped with relief as his wife glanced upward, gazing into his eyes with a loving set of her own. She sported a joyful expression as an ecstatic grin swept across her face.

"Th-they're _excited_, dear." she said gleefully, her tone brimming with delight. She quickly reached for his hand, bringing it to her belly just as it fluttered with yet another kick.

"Aye, Eli!" he attested, his mouth gaping with a wide grin. His face brightened even more so, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. "C'mon dear, c'mon!" he said giddily, beginning to lead her deeper into the glen as Duncan followed with a nicker. Elinor chortled as she was pulled along, but her husband abruptly came to a halt, scampering behind her and covering her eyes.

"Oh, Fergus! What are ye-" Elinor exclaimed with a giggle just as her husband hushed her.

"Just work with me, Elinor!" he assured her with a chuckle, beginning to slowly guide her forward. "Easy now... that's right... almost there!"

Elinor sighed, attempting to hide her growing anticipation. Her stomach began to flutter with excitement; although, it could simply be their wee babby once more making his or her presence known.

A pleasant scent wafted through the area, and her nose alerted her to the enjoyment she was sure to experience. Just as she felt as if she couldn't wait any longer, her husband rapidly lifted his hands from over her eyes, revealing to her a wondrous sight.

Dozens of bluebells, snowdrops, and poppies peppered the clearing before her, each basking in the sparking sunlight peeking through the canopy of leaves overhead. The stunningly brilliant hue of the bluebells were nearly blinding to the eye, yet so captivatingly gorgeous one could scarcely avert one's gaze from the sight. The snowdrops were entirely, immaculately white in their color, the only thing attracting attention from the marvelous, snowy hue being the dewdrops sprinkled generously upon their flesh. The poppies dotting the field added a vibrant assortment of colors to the already near-perfect view. Cheerful, sunny yellows, bright, scarlet reds, and deliciously brilliant oranges caused the lush grasses to suffuse with a beautiful array of colors.

Elinor hesitantly took a step back, bumping into her husband in the process. She feared that if she took another step towards the haven, the view may withdraw itself, the blooming flowers shriveling up and shyly retracting themselves back into the shelter of the earthy soil.

"So, what do ye think, Eli?" Fergus asked expectantly, fervently desiring his wife's response. A soft sniffling arose from her, and she turned away from the sight before them, burying her face in his chest. He immediately feared he'd done something horribly wrong. "Elinor, what is it?!" he cried, enveloping his queen in an embrace. "T-tell me, lass! Out with it!" What had he done? Had he caused her pain? Her soft cries were maddening to him, though he embraced her unconditionally while lovingly kissing her head.

"Fergus, I..." she whimpered, her sobs rendering her unable to speak.

"What did I do, love? Did I do somethin' wrong?" he pressed anxiously, brushing his lips over her moist, tear-stained cheeks. Elinor's liquid, amber eyes widened as they locked with his.

"No, no, darling! Ye've done nothin' wrong." she assured him wholeheartedly yet tearfully, rising to her toes to kiss his lips. Her husband gently lifted her off the ground, bringing her into his arms as he cradled her.

"Then what, love? I hate seein' ye cry, ye know that." Fergus murmured, nuzzling her face as he ventured into the clearing. Slowly, he sunk down into the blooms and pressed his lips to Elinor's. She hastily broke the kiss as a fresh supply of tears rolled down her cheeks. "What did I do, Eli? Just tell me, lass! I want to know what's _wrong!" _he pleaded desperately, enveloping her in a hug.

"You haven't done _anythin'," _Elinor insisted, rubbing her moistened face against his neck. "I... I don't know why this is happenin' to me," she admitted, helplessly clinging to him. She whispered weakly, "It's beautiful, Fergus."

She simply felt as if weren't the same anymore. At times, she would be in the midst of a fiery rage; minutes later, she would be breaking down in tears. Due to this, the queen felt confused and overwhelmed, and although she could easily be irked by his overprotective nature, Elinor felt as if the only person in the world whom she could truly rely on was her doting king.

Fergus reclined upon the grass, gently placing his queen beside him. As she continued to cry, he stifled her sobs for a mere moment as he kissed her lips, and she willingly accepted the affection, caressing his chiseled face with her delicate hands. As they pulled apart at the dire need for a breath, Elinor inched closer to her husband, who rubbed her heaving back.

"Don't blame yerself, Eli," he whispered tenderly, kissing her forehead. "It's just our wee babe's way of tellin' ye she's with us." Queen Elinor couldn't keep herself from giggling at his remark, which thoroughly lifted her spirits. "Cheer up, love," Fergus added, mischievously allowing his hand to wander down her waist, exploring her curves and becoming all the more familiar with them. "Yer family's here for ye, darlin'."

As the king's muscular stallion grazed nearby, the royal couple shared another kiss, displaying their love for one another in such a way that could only be performed when Fergus and Elinor were certain they would not be disturbed. They lay for hours, and although there was a lingering, subconscious concern in the queen that a search party may be sent for them, she didn't dare speak of it. The king and queen spoke of sweet, simple nothings, as there was no fathomable way of describing how much they loved one another.

Fergus plucked a handful of poppies from the grass and offered them to his queen. As Elinor's face suffused with delight, she brought them to her nose in order to savor the delicate scent, humming with contentment. Her husband observed her with a pair of hungry eyes, and she glanced warily at him, giving him a playful nudge as he longingly provided her neck with affection.

Yes, King Fergus could be quite infantile. Yes, he could be quite overprotective, even overbearing at times. But Queen Elinor wouldn't trade their romance or the child whom they had created _together _for anything in the world. Once the baby was born, their love was sure to blossom all the more, being joined in bloom by a mutual adoration for their child.

Elinor pressed her lips to her love's, resulting in a passion as sweet as the flowers in which they were sprawled.


	24. Too Great a Debt

Too Great a Debt

_While on an outing, Princess Elinor quite literally 'runs into' Fergus of DunBroch, who's up to his usual mischief.  
_

* * *

"Don't dawdle, Yer Highness," a voice ordered, causing the princess to quicken her pace. "Yer mother gave us strict orders to return to the castle _on time _today, Elinor. We simply haven't the time for yer daydreaming."

Elinor rolled her amber eyes slightly, as she couldn't help but studied the numerous villagers bustling about the cobbled streets on this day. They were all so sprightly, so vivacious. She rarely saw such activity in the castle where she spent the majority of her days, so when she did find the time to venture out into the unpredictable atmosphere of the crowded village, she relished it. Naturally, she wore a hood over her head, avoiding being recognized as the princess and thereby being treated differently. The lives of the common folk were so simple and yet entirely genuine; if only she could spend one day seeing the world through their eyes.

Her inquisitive gaze attracted the attention of her nanny, however, and the woman spoke up again.

"Princess Elinor, _I _will not be takin' the blame this time if we're tardy," she warned the young girl. "Thought I may let ye know."

"Of course, Aggie," Elinor responded absentmindedly, a rather strange sound piquing her interest. Aggie clicked her tongue, beginning to chatter away as Elinor drifted in and out.

"If we ever hope to finish our errands today, we'll have to hurry!" the woman muttered, scanning her eyes down the list that Queen Margaret had provided her that morning. "Ah, here we are, visit the tailor and pick up yer new gown for that lovely dinner party the queen is throwin'." Aggie mumbled slightly irritably. She then sighed. "Another mess I'm sure to wind up cleanin'..."

"Aye," Elinor replied mindlessly, her studious, amber eyes fixated elsewhere.

"Elinor, this is against my better judgment, but it's clear to me that I'll get _nothin' _done with you in my company." the nanny said, reaching into her pocket in search of something. After a moment, she placed several gleaming coins into Elinor's palm. "Here, now," she said, brushing a tendril of dark hair beneath her bonnet and placing her hands upon her hips. "That should be enough to keep ye busy. Meet me back here in just a wee bit, do ye hear me? Yer mother and father will have my head if anythin' happens to ye," she informed the princess, breathing a quick, silent prayer in Gaelic before turning her back to her and continuing on her quest to the tailor's.

Elinor stared at the coins in her hand for a moment before wandering away from the meeting spot. She had no earthly idea of a way to spend what Aggie had provided her with, but it had to be meaningful. Perhaps she may grant a poor, performing musician on the streets with a meal. In any case, the princess felt that since she, being as privileged as she was, should seek out someone far less fortunate to beseech this money.

* * *

His blue eyes studied her. Her gown flowed and billowed hypnotically in the breeze, her stockinged feet daintily gliding along the ground.

"Lad, are ye with us or not? Fergus!"

The boy in question snapped back to reality, directing his attention from the sight of the quaint streets back to his fellow comrades, though perhaps a more fitting term would be "partners in crime".

"Eh? Oh, aye, 'course I'm with ye. It was _my _idea, after all. Was it not?" Fergus stated matter-of-factly, shrugging off his friend's suspicious glare. "Or are ye too scaredto go through with it_, _Roddy?"

"'Mnot scared," Roddy scoffed, gesturing beyond Fergus, "but they way ye were oglin' that lass, I'd think that _you _were scared of _her."_

Fergus scowled, giving his companion a shove to the ground. "She's the _princess, _ye tumshee," he spat, beckoning for another shy lad, who at that moment was simply standing back and observing, to join him in peering into a nearby shop window. "I wasn't oglin' 'er..." he muttered irritably under his breath.

"Och, what would a lass like her want to have anythin' to do with the likes of you?" Roddy snickered, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. He grabbed Fergus' shoulder, giving it a supportive pat. "B'sides, lad, ye're with us."

In all honesty, Fergus inherently knew that his friend was entirely correct. If Elinor had a good head on her shoulders, which he was positive that she did, she would steer clear from him. Although, he had made it his priority recently to assure that it would prove very difficult for her to avoid him. Sure, it was unfair, but it was the only excuse he could possibly think up to have a conversation with the daughter of King Edwin.

"Are we goin' to go through with this, or not?" the ginger-haired boy snapped, glancing back and forth between the two boys at his sides. The larger of the two made an attempt to scurry away, but Fergus apprehended him, snagging him by his kilt.

The boy moaned. "Aw, come on, won't this spoil our dinners? Aye, aye, I think this is a bad idea-"

"Colin, ye're not backin' outta this now," Fergus growled, giving a quick nod as he readied the grappling hook that he had tossed over his shoulder. He hurled it with a quiet grunt, giving the rope a tug. "Right, I'm goin' up first. Then you, Roddy."

"Wh-what about me?" stammered Colin, his knees wobbling. "Why can't I come? What if we're caught? What if-"

"We won't _be _caught!" Roddy barked, shooting the cowardly yet large boy a cold stare. "'Cause _you _are goin' to keep watch for the two of us," he elaborated, gesturing between Fergus and himself. "Make a noise if ye think anyone is catchin' on. Do ye understand?"

"Well, I-" Colin whimpered.

"Grand," Fergus snapped, gripping the rope and beginning to scale the wall of the structure. As he clambered on to the roof, Roddy followed in hot pursuit, hushing Colin as he began to create a fuss.

"Shut it!" Roddy ordered, quickly standing upon the roof. His friend quickly silenced his pleas, and the snappish lad rolled his eyes, using a hand to slick back his dark hair. "Now, lad... Fergus?"

He glanced confusedly about as he came to the realization that his companion had seemingly disappeared. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the grappling hook gripped securely on to the stone chimney. He momentarily picked up the sound of sputtering, and Fergus poked his head out of the opening, shaking soot from his curly hair.

"Mind givin' me a hand, lad?" he panted, and Roddy instantly retreated to his side.

Fergus, having tied the rope around his torso, briefly nodded. His friend gazed knowingly at him, and the young lord donned a determined expression. He was lowered slowly back down the chimney, preparing for his mission. He would snatch as many sweets as he could, then he would retreat. There was no need to take an unnecessary risk, let alone gamble with his own life. There was no telling how angry the shopkeeper would be if he were to be apprehended.

Just as he came within a few feet from the bottom, a flame was lit in the hearth, and Fergus quickly gave the rope a furious tug. He remained suspended in the air, and as the flames began to steadily burn, the boy could feel his heart begin to pound in response. His azure eyes watered in response to the smoke, and he began breaking out in a nervous sweat (although, the heat of the fire was more than likely to be the true cause of it, as the scorching temperature was beginning to grow unbearable).

Thinking quickly, the lord tugged on the rope once more, and he began to lower again. Rapidly, Fergus drew a breath, attempting to extinguish the flames. As he puffed, the flames began to die out, leaving only weak, crackling cinders behind. Cautiously, the boy laid a booted foot upon the bottom of the fireplace, releasing an interjection as the sole of his foot screamed in protest. He instantly shut his mouth, fearful of causing another sound. No, he couldn't take the coward's way out. He had to do this. There was no hearing the end of it if he didn't perform this relatively simple feat.

Fergus tiptoed around the remaining bits of heated logs, leaping out of the hearth and assessing his surroundings. The person who had started the fire appeared to have gone elsewhere, much to his relief. A heavenly scent attracted the attention of Fergus' nose, and he filled his being with a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of freshly-baked sweets.

The boy's inquisitive, azure eyes landed upon a collection of tarts sitting upon a nearby table to cool, and he rubbed his hands together as his mouth began to water. Thinking quickly, he fished for a handkerchief in his pocket, ripping it out and hastily wrapping up the tarts.

"Och, ye rogue!" a voice bellowed, spewing curses in Gaelic.

Fergus flinched, hurrying along with his task as the baker appeared before him.

"I'm just, erm... I'll just be goin' then!" the boy chuckled, scrambling over to the chimney and tugging on the rope. He kicked up soot with his boots, leaving a thick, dark cloud in his wake.

"Get back here, ye thief!" the baker howled. He hollered up the chimney, coughing and hacking all the while.

"Let's get goin'!" Fergus laughed excitedly, clambering on to the roof.

"Ye got 'em?" Roddy asked, and the fiery-haired boy nodded furiously.

Taking long strides, the boys leaped from rooftop to rooftop, leaving a panting and heaving Colin in their wake. He tramped along in the streets, dodging unsuspecting passersby as he chased after his accomplices.

Fergus, his freckled face blackened with soot, glanced back over his shoulder. He tossed his head back, hooting and hollering. The two boys took a reckless leap off of a building, landing atop a produce stand. The farmer tending to his vegetables screeched in a harsh string of language at the vandals, who sheepishly continued in their hasty escape.

Fergus and Roddy faintly caught the sound of Colin wheezing as he desperately tried to catch up with them, and therefore they came to a screeching halt, awaiting the last member of their threesome.

"Once we get outta the village, it's a clear shot to the glen," Fergus panted, holding the handkerchief of pastries tightly to his chest. "They'll never find us there, lads."

"There they are!" screeched an outraged voice, and Fergus, who had yet begun to feel the sensation of true fear that day, sensed his heart begin to pound all the more.

"Time for us to go!" he exclaimed, taking a sharp turn down an alleyway. His friends followed suit.

"I didn't do anythin'!" Colin whimpered, pumping his plump legs as fast as they could possibly go.

"You kept watch!" Roddy snapped in a growl, beads of sweat pouring down his face.

"But, I-"

Fergus glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Would the two of ye stop yer arguin' and-"

In an instant, the trio came to a screeching halt before a hooded figure. While Roddy and Colin managed to come to a full and complete stop, Fergus stumbled forward, tumbling into a puddle of mud with the individual.

* * *

Elinor could scarcely come to terms with what had happened in the past moments, as it had all happened so fast. A chilling sensation alerted her to the water seeping through her gown, and she gasped, quickly sitting up in the puddle. Her hood slipped off, and the person who had been on top of her quickly rose to his feet.

"H-hello, there, Yer Highness," the voice squeaked, laughing nervously and uncomfortably.

Elinor raised her head at the sound of the familiar voice, glaring furiously into the young lord's eyes. Fergus offered a soot-caked hand to her, and though she had a burning desire to pull him into the mud with her, she resisted, swatting his hand away and rising to her feet on her own.

"I'm not safe from ye anywhere," she muttered under her breath, studying her dress, which was specked with mud all the way up to her shoulders.

"_Princess Elinor!" _an unfamiliar voice shrieked, parting the growing crowd of spectators. Fergus was momentarily lifted off the ground by the kilt, the bundle in his hands being snatched out of his grasp. "Has this no-good _ruffian _caused ye trouble?!"

"Easy, easy, _easy!" _Fergus whimpered, his feet dangling above the ground. "C'mon, boys, help me out here!" he cried desperately, glancing about for any sign of his friends. They had vanished completely. "Figures," grumbled the boy, grunting as his assailant tightened his grip.

"What shall I do with him, Yer Majesty?" the man growled, lifting his captive higher off the ground.

Elinor remained silent for some time, and Fergus could feel his pulse pounding in his ears. Although he was being held by a burly, savage man, his life was in the hands of the petite and mild-mannered princess.

"Let him go," murmured Elinor quietly, and gasps arose from the crowd gathered around her.

"Are ye mad, lass?!" the man shrieked.

"You heard her!" Fergus snapped, kicking his legs. A slightly smaller man, covered in black soot, appeared by the side of the burly specimen holding the young lord hostage in his grasp.

"Ah, princess, there is still the matter of payment for what he has stolen from _me_," the baker added in a growl.

"Oh, dear," Elinor sighed, revealing to him a handful of coins. "I'm sure this is enough to clear this up, is it not?"

The little man's eyes gleamed as he hastily accepted the payment. He nodded to the larger man beside him, who tossed Fergus carelessly to the ground. The boy landed with a grunt, remaining there. His bundle of tarts pegged him in the shoulder, joining him in the dirt.

"I don't want to see ye around here again, ye rat!" the baker snarled, kicking up dust.

Fergus coughed as he attempted to shield his eyes, and Elinor frowned as the congregation began to snicker. Though the young lord _had _committed a crime, the princess couldn't see why he deserved this sort of treatment. He had already been publicly humiliated and made a spectacle, and the sight of him lying defenseless on the ground caused something to snap inside of Elinor.

_"That's quite enough!"_ she remarked severely, her eyes flaring with anger. The laughter momentarily ceased, and the baker cleared his throat, bowing his head.

"Very well, Yer Highness. I'll leave _you _to deal with this numpty." he growled, gesturing for the boy at his feet to take his leave. The baker turned on his heels, admiring the shiny coins in his hands.

The crowd slowly began to clear as each individual parted ways, busying themselves as they continued their tasks. Elinor knelt down beside Fergus, glaring at the remaining people watching. Her icy, cold set of eyes, reflecting a queenly aura, sent the remaining villagers scattering.

"Are ye alright, Fergus? Ye're not hurt, are ye?" she inquired gently of him, laying a hand concernedly upon his shoulder. The boy looked up, his blue eyes reflecting a vulnerability unlike Elinor had ever seen. It somewhat startled her. He _did _have weaknesses, that she knew, but she never in her wildest dreams expected Fergus to show them.

"Aye, I-I'm alright." he murmured, sitting up and shaking dust from his red, curly hair. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his mop of curls and retrieved the bundle of sweets from the ground. He tossed it towards her, and it landed in front of her. "Take 'em."

"No, Fergus, I want you to keep them," Elinor said, pushing them his way. "Ye went through all that trouble to get them, after all." She offered him a warm smile, and he in turn showed a toothy grin.

"Well, thank ye, lass." he said quietly, rising to his feet. He offered her his hand, retracting it to wipe the soot off upon his tartan kilt. He held it out again, and she accepted the offer.

"Well, I must be on my way." the princess said, and the boy frowned.

"Oh, w-well, thanks again." he said with a slight chuckle, beaming wider as Elinor let loose a giggle. A few seconds of silence passed before he spoke again. "Really and truly, lass. _Thank you. _I-"

"_Elinor!" _a voice shrieked, and a huffing Aggie turned the corner, red in the face. "Oh, heavens, Elinor! What happened?" she inquired desperately, checking the girl for wounds.

"I'm fine, Aggie," the princess assured her, though she was quite ignored.

"Oh, the king and queen will... och, they'll..." Aggie murmured in distress, pausing as she took note of the unfamiliar boy before her. "_You! You _are Fergus of DunBroch!" she growled, pointing a finger at him. "Did _you _do this?!"

"Aggie, I can explain _everything..." _Elinor piped up, only to be interrupted a moment later.

"We must be goin' home, lass! Ye're goin' to catch cold in that gown! Och, yer mother will be _furious!" _Aggie moaned, bringing a hand to her forehead.

"Oh, really, Aggie-" Elinor began, sighing as she was cut off once more.

"And _you!" _Aggie snapped, glaring at Fergus. "Stay _far_ away from the princess! I don't want to see ye anywhere near her!" ordered the nanny, wrapping an arm around Elinor's shoulder as she began to lead her away. "Come now, lass..."

The princess glanced over her shoulder as Aggie continued to express her disapproval over the matter, smiling at the boy behind her, who couldn't even manage to get a word in edgewise.

He murmured under his breath, "Goodbye, Elinor."

Fergus resolved that he would find some way to repay this debt. One way or another, he would return this generous favor. Surely, it was too great a debt to be left unpaid.


	25. When We're Apart

When We're Apart

_Elinor can hardly bear to see her husband leave her when the time comes for him to fight off invaders from the sea. _

* * *

"I _have_ to go, Elinor," he stated firmly, taking her hands in his and gazing austerely into her eyes.

The clear, bright azure and warm, soft amber locked faithfully, melting together with amorous gazes. It took a moment for her husband's statement to sink in, but as the queen slowly came to terms with what her husband had uttered, her fond smile instantly morphed into a frown, her eyebrows knitting together with anxiety.

His statement worried her greatly. Whenever her king took on a solemn aura about him and showed an uncharacteristically somber mood, an unpleasant, foreboding feeling formed in her stomach, instinctively alerting her to an impending change of spirit.

Queen Elinor knew her husband well, and she adored the quirks that defined him; he was entirely lighthearted, flighty, and a bit forgetful and oblivious at times, but he _was _the man she loved. Though he was somewhat of a clown, he was entirely devoted to their relationship, and their bond was stronger than any she'd known between two people.

Fergus reiterated his previous utterance, and a soft call of her name brought his queen out of her trance and back to reality.

"Wh-what?" she questioned, donning a puzzled expression.

"The invaders are comin' in. Trespassin' on to the clan MacGuffin's bound'ries. He sent word to me today, love. I've got to help 'em out. We've got an alliance to uphold."

Elinor's face fell with her revelation. "Oh, Fergus, no..."

"This has been a long time comin', Eli." Fergus sighed, sympathetically gazing at his wife's forlorn, distraught face. "But I've got to do it, love. The lads are countin' on me."

"Fergus, no. Ye can't. Ye can't simply leave us... yer wife and daughter. Ye _can't."_ murmured Elinor weakly, at last succumbing to a tear or two. "I won't allow it!"

The man, his love's pain soon engulfing him, kissed a tear away from his wife's fair cheek. "Darlin', please... don't. I-I hate seein' ye cry."

"H-how did ye expect me to react to this, Fergus?" Elinor retorted, appearing to shrink in stature as she hunched over, her back heaving with a quiet sob. She covered her face with her hands, exhaling in a shaky breath.

"Elinor. Ye have to trust me. I'll have everythin' under control-"

"Fergus, ye're not what ye used to be!" she blurted, instantly regretting her outburst as soon as it escaped her lips, as her husband turned away from her, avoiding her gaze.

"Yes, I am..." he insisted, glancing down at his wooden leg with evident disdain in his determined set of eyes.

"Darling, I didn't mean that." was his queen's response. "What I mean is... _oh, Fergus..." _she woefully whispered, a tender tone surfacing in her brogue. Elinor rested her forehead upon his shoulder as she once more commenced in her crying. "I just know they'll take advantage of yer leg... yerweakness. They'll take ye away from us... from _me..." _

Fergus turned to comfort his wife as he embraced her in a warm hug, gently and rhythmically rocking her to and fro ever so slightly. The two sat in silence for a moment, and the king brought the queen closer as her sobs began to quiet down.

"Eli, listen to me, love. I'll be gone three days at the most. Ye'll see. Ye won't even have a _chance_ to start missin' me." he chuckled, pressing his lips to her fair, tear-stained cheek.

Queen Elinor, comforted minutely by this fact, glanced up at her husband with a pair of tearful, amber eyes. Another drop of moisture rolled down her cheek, cascading in a thin rivulet that resembled the trickling of a stream.

"Don't be daft, ye know that I will, anyhow." she murmured, giving a soft, tearful laugh as Fergus tightened his grip of her, giving her entire form a loving squeeze. She rested her head upon his chest as they embraced, but after a moment, she spoke again. "Fergus. Our wee lass... she's too young to understand why her father is leavin' her."

Fergus sported a thoughtful gaze, and he stroked his whiskers as he contemplated how to break the news to their daughter. Yes, Merida would most likely not take kindly to the idea of his departure.

"Perhaps she won't think twice about it," the king wondered aloud.

"Fergus, she adores you. Of course she'll question it."

"Just leave it to me, Eli." he assured her in a gravelly yet tender tone of voice. "I'll handle it, dear. Now, please, no more tears." He wrapped his arms around his beloved, gently pressing his lips to hers. A drop of moisture landed upon his skin, and in response to this, he gingerly brought his precious queen into his muscular arms, deepening their passionate affections.

Elinor unlocked their lips, touching her forehead to his. "I'm goin' to be so worried about ye, Fergus." sighed the monarch. She was certain that she'd experience restless nights.

"Don't fret." he said, smiling knowingly as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm goin' to be worryin' more about you and our wee princess than either of you will of me."

"I just... c-can't help it. I can't help thinkin' about what could happen... what could become of you..." she confessed tearfully, her voice weakening as it trailed off.

"Elinor, have I ever been untruthful to ye?" Fergus asked, grasping her chin with a gentle hand. She averted her eyes and quickly brushed a tear away. "Answer me, lass." insisted the king.

"No, dear," professed the queen, swallowing yet another lump forming in her throat.

"Then why should I start now? How long have we been married, again?" he chuckled, quirking a brow as his queen donned a serious, alarmed expression. "Now, now, 'course I remember, love. How could I forget such a grand day?"

His wife's cheeks became tinged with a rosy hue, severely affected by his charm.

* * *

Elinor awoke with a start, gasping heavily and devouring oxygen ravenously. She bunched the quilts in her fists, her knuckles turning white as she did so. The queen felt her husband's arms protectively envelop her, and as the nightmarish reality of her terrifying dreams transformed into a much more pleasant turn of events, she was at last calmed, her erratically beating heart slowing to a steady pace once more.

"What's wrong, dear?" asked Fergus with concern, gently pulling his wife back down upon their bed.

"I... you... th-they-" she stammered, burying her face in her hands.

"There, there, now," whispered the king, retracting her delicate pair of hands from her face and planting a lengthy kiss upon her lips. His queen gave a nearly inaudible whimper, and he brought her into his arms in a desperate attempt to comfort her. She still inhaled rapid breaths, as if she was unable to sufficiently fill her lungs with precious air.

As she lay in his grasp, recovering from her state of shock, he placed a gentle hand upon her neck, fondling the chain of her pendant – the gift he'd given her those years ago. The silver showed some wear, but was in all as stunning as it had been the day she'd received it.

"Fergus... Fergus, listen to me..." whispered the visibly shaken queen, squirming in his grasp, "Ye can't go through with it!"

"What's that, Elinor?" inquired the king, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear that rolled down her cheek. His brows became knit together with concern. "Are ye havin' trouble sleepin'?"

"A-aye," breathed the queen, attempting to shake away the terrors of the nightmare she had just endured.

"What's wrong, love?" Fergus pressed, squeezing her shoulders with his massive hands as she began to tremble. He loosened his grip of her in trepidation, fearing that he may hurt her with his forcible strength.

"I saw ye... I saw ye fall..." she stuttered in a murmur. Her weak voice at last gave out, succumbing to her evident fright.

"Elinor, why don't ye trust me?" sighed the king fondly, caressing her velvet cheek with his palm.

"I _do _trust ye, Fergus," insisted his wife with a sniff, "b-but despite what ye may believe, ye have yer weaknesses."

"Like what?" he purred mischievously, kissing her neck. "'s far as I'm concerned, the only weakness I have is you, darlin'. Ye have quite the effect on me."

"Fergus, please..."

"Elinor, I'll have 'em roughed up and finished off b'fore ye can say-"

"Fergus, I can't lose ye," she said shakily, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the tears in. She chastised herself silently from within. She was the queen, and a proper monarch _had _to learn to control her emotions.

"Well, yes, before ye can say _that," _Fergus chuckled, affectionately touching his nose to hers. His queen glared at him icily, though her tearful eyes slightly tempered the intimidation she tried to convey. "Now, don't give me that _look _of yers," he pleaded, lightly taking her hand in his.

Elinor blinked back her tears as her king offered her a sincere gaze, and for the moment her fears were assuaged. She constantly reminded herself of how capable a man her husband was and would be if and when he was ever put in a dangerous situation, despite his lost leg. The sound of his gruff yet loving brogue brought her back to reality.

"Are ye goin' to be alright, dear?" he persisted, and Elinor, her amber eyes gazing deeply into his, delighted him with several brief kisses in succession. "Is that a _'yes', _Eli?" her king chuckled, fondly returning her kisses. She nodded slowly, a subtle, comforted smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

* * *

"R-remember to wear yer thick furs, dear," the queen mentioned in a stammer, fumbling with her hands and swiveling around to face away from the king. "I don't want ye to come down with somethin' simply because ye didn't dress warmly enough." She began to mutter quietly, and Fergus donned a knowing smile.

"Yes, love," he replied. He grinned wider at the notion that he was most definitely on her mind, as she was known to mutter whenever something was troubling her deeply.

"A-and don't do anything rash," Elinor reminded him. "Yer men, they idolize you so. Set a grand example for the younger lads."

"Aye, Elinor," was the king's response, preparing himself for his departure.

"H-how long shall ye be gone, again?" the female monarch inquired. A more appropriate question would have been: 'How many sleepless nights will I be enduring?' Truthfully, she wouldn't rest without the king by her side. The queen would be so grateful when this whole ordeal was over and done with.

"Oh, a fortnight, perhaps longer..." replied her husband vaguely, observing his love as she paced back and forth. Her head suddenly snapped towards him, and her eyes reflected a pain unlike any he'd ever seen in her. At that exact moment, Fergus wistfully longed to recant his careless statement. "Och, Eli, I was just kiddin', love!" he exclaimed hastily, bringing her into an embrace. She practically went limp in his arms, and he prayed he hadn't gone too far this time.

"This isn't... a matter... to _josh _about, Fergus," Elinor stammered weakly, and through her voice was catching as she began to lose control, her tone was stern and unforgiving. "I-is this just fun and games to ye? Because it's certainly not for me, nor our Merida, nor our kingdom!"

"I'm sorry, love, I'm _so _sorry," he apologized, planting kisses upon her face. He inherently knew his wife wasn't in good spirits, and she would therefore be in no mood to listen to his good humor. Although, he had to find some way to lighten the mood and cheer himself up, for he felt as if _he_ could break down at any moment, as well.

"Fergus, ye're to come home as soon as ye can," Elinor whispered as they shared a hug, kissing his neck as they did so. "Though, I wish ye wouldn't have to leave at all." Her husband's bearded chin tickled her cheek as he whispered in her ear.

"I'll be home in no time, my darlin'," he said gently, kissing her ear in an affectionate manner. "I love you."

"I love _you, _Fergus." the queen responded, giving a heavy, distraught sigh as she released more of her emotions. "G-go, now. Wee Merida's asleep. I don't think she'd let ye go if she knew..."

"I have to say goodbye to her, Eli." Fergus said firmly, turning his back to his wife and venturing down the hallway.

The king's words stung. _He'll see her again,_ Elinor reminded herself. They would all be reunited within a matter of days, and she wouldn't allow Fergus out of her sight anymore. That's how it would be, and that's how it rightfully _should _be.

The queen, though she truthfully wished to steer clear of any confrontation that was to be had between her husband and her daughter, felt as if she was needed for emotional support for both members of her beloved family.

As she entered her daughter's room, she picked up the familiar, comforting sound of her beloved's voice speaking to the little girl, and Elinor remained in the hallway, granting them their privacy but still managing to inconspicuously listen in on the conversation. She held her ear to the crack in the door, listening intently.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Merida yawned, and Elinor brought a hand to her heart at the girl's innocent, unsuspecting tone of voice. She truly didn't suspect a thing; it broke her mother's heart.

"Merida, love, I'm goin' on a wee trip," Fergus replied soothingly, "and I just came to say goodbye to ye."

"G-goodbye? Where are ye goin', Daddy?" the girl whimpered. Her mother, unbeknownst to the young princess, waited patiently outside the door, feeling the overwhelming urge to rush in and comfort her child.

"No, darlin', stay in bed. Ye need to keep warm." the doting father told her gently, but their daughter refused to back down.

"_No! _No, _Daddy!_ I want to go with ye!" Merida protested vehemently, beginning to cry.

"Now, now, Merida," Fergus crooned as he began to comfort his daughter. "Ye're my brave wee lass, aren't ye? Aye, so I don't want to see any more tears. I _promise _ye I'll be back in no time at all. Ye make Mummy smile a bunch while I'm gone, eh?"

Elinor felt tears form in her eyes as the father and child endearingly shared a quiet laugh with one another. Oh, she missed him already, and he hadn't even said his final goodbye to her. She simply couldn't fathom how she would manage the next few days without him. The queen's tears stung in her eyes, and she quickly held them back. She was entirely tired of crying. The sound of footsteps approached, and she fell into her husband's arms as the door she had been leaning on was opened.

"Been eavesdroppin', love?" he said quietly, providing her cheek with several kisses. Fergus produced a gasp. "Och, I've got to go, the lads'll be waitin' on me." he stated apologetically, glancing down as his daughter clung to his leg.

"Do ye _have _to?" she whined, hugging him tighter.

With a deep, hearty chuckle, the king lifted up his leg to admire his daughter. "'Fraid so, lass."

"_Must _ye?" his wife reiterated, gloomily.

Fergus turned back to his precious queen, who attentively awaited his answer. "I'm afraid so," he said lovingly, lifting his beloved's chin as she lowered her head. "Hey, now. It'll all turn out fine."

He leaned down, placing a kiss upon Merida's head, and then turned his attention to his distraught wife, who had begun to weep yet again. It appeared as if there was no way to console her, and it shattered his heart to pieces. The king couldn't leave his queen in this condition, yet he had to if he wished to aid his allies. He enveloped her in a tender embrace, giving her back a soothing rub as he allowed her to let out her feelings.

"Darlin', darlin', don't do this to me," he pleaded desperately, a stubborn tear escaping his eye and rolling down his cheek.

A tiny voice piped up as the two monarchs embraced one another. "Don't cry, Mummy." it murmured, its owner placing itself in between the king and queen. Fergus and Elinor reluctantly split apart, glancing down at their daughter with loving gazes. The queen knelt down to scoop up her daughter, affectionately kissing her freckled features.

"Oh, my darling," Elinor sobbed, fondling her child's curls in a motherly manner.

"Daddy doesn't want us to cry. I'm not, so you shouldn't either, Mummy!" Merida chimed as cheerfully as possible. She turned to glance back at her father. "Right, Daddy?"

"That's right, m'darlin'," he chuckled. "We've got a smart wee one, eh, Elinor? She takes after her mum, after all!"

Merida hugged her mother, who in turn leaned into her husband. The small family huddled together, sharing their final goodbyes and sentiments.

* * *

His little girl scrambled toward him, nearly tripping over her feet in her efforts to rush into her father's arms. Merida shrieked the affectionate name with which she referred to him, and she was quite close to causing the king to topple to the ground due to her remarkable force, an impeccable feat considering Fergus' robust, burly stature.

"Ah, Merida! My wee lass!" he laughed, joining his daughter in chortles. Lovingly, Merida planted kisses upon his face, and the king returned her affections. "Did ye behave for yer mother? 'Cause if ye _didn't..." _

The princess erupted in giggles as her father tickled her sides, grinning devilishly all the while, and Merida released a gasping plea for him to cease his torture upon her.

"_Daddy!" _she squealed, attempting to wriggle out of his arms. "L-let me go!"

"Aye, alright then. If ye promise me ye didn't cause yer poor mum too much trouble." her father chuckled, hoisting his beloved daughter up on to his shoulders. "How's yer mum been holdin' up, hm?"

Merida hugged her father's neck, thoughtfully resting her chin atop his helmet. "She's been real _sleepy _lately," she mused, pondering intently about her mother.

"Oh, has she, now?" Fergus chuckled, enamored at the fact that his wife had lost sleep over him. Of course, the king knew his love needed her rest, but he couldn't help but experience a subtle sense of flattery at this prospect.

"My lord!" a voice cried, and a bouncing Maudie scampered up to him, bowing vigorously. "I'm so relieved ye've returned unscathed. The clan's been mad with worry over ye!"

"But, of course, Maudie! I'm the same marksman I've always been, just a wee bit, well..."

_"Well,_ Daddy?" Merida inquired of him expectantly.

Fergus chuckled. "I s'pose ye could say I'm just a _bit_ less than what I used to be," he admitted, glancing down at his wooden leg.

Maudie giggled joyously, shaking her head as she smiled. "The queen, sire, she's been very eager to see ye. She's been awaitin' yer homecomin' since the moment ye left."

"Oh, aye!" Fergus exclaimed, placing a quick kiss upon his daughter's freckled cheek. "Why don't ye run along with Maudie to the kitchen and help her bake some tarts, eh?" he mentioned with a cheeky grin, gently setting her down. He straightened his posture, clearing his throat as he did so. "I'm goin' to go and get settled, Maudie. Perhaps _tend _to the queen. Merida's told me that she's been feelin' a wee bit worn down as of late..."

Maudie's eyes widened as she became familiar with the meaning of his words. She stifled a chuckle with her hand, darting her eyes downward to the princess and gesturing for her to come along and join her.

"C-c'mon, lass," she giggled, taking the young princess by the hand. Although the girl sported a puzzled expression, she readily accepted the invitation to indulge in some sweets.

The eager bear king's mouth curved upward in a grin, anticipation radiating from his core.

* * *

Her amber eyes brightened at the sight of her love, over whom she'd lost countless hours of sleep the past several nights. At last, she could drift off in the warmth of his arms, as she would be entirely certain that he was safe and well.

Delightfully and without a single word, they both retired to their bed, their bodies melting together in a pleasant harmony. Fergus gently yet hungrily caressed the swell of her hips, and the queen couldn't resist giggling joyfully at his evident fervency. Her adoration for him compelled her to crush her lips to his, smiling as his mustache teased her flesh.

As the king broke the kiss, his chest heaving with his breaths, the woman in his arms snuggled impossibly closer to him, beginning their passion anew. Fergus grinned in the midst of the kiss, though he excitedly pulled their lips apart seconds later.

"Ye should've seen me Eli! How I roughed 'em up! They didn't stand a chance! Not one!" he rambled, holding her close despite the sudden change in mood. Moments before, his spirits had been amorous and passionate, and it was presently utterly rambunctious.

"Fergus, why are ye resistin' me?" Elinor sighed, a slightly impatient tone surfacing in her voice. She lowered her head to lovingly place a trail of kisses upon his chest, grinning all the while.

The king's blue eyes widened with sheer alarm. "'Mnot, love! _'Course _I'm not! Oh, darlin' I thought of ye all the time, I just-"

"Hush, hush, hush!" sang his queen, silencing him with a finger to his lips.

Slowly, she withdrew her hand, passionately kissing him upon the mouth in an effort for him to remain quiet and calm. Elinor simply desired to make up for lost time. During the time they had spent apart, however brief, she could scarcely keep her thoughts of her noble king from wandering astray, causing her love for him to deepen all the more.


	26. Nurse Elinor

Nurse Elinor

_When the king comes down with a cold, Elinor takes on the role of his nurse._

* * *

Elinor looked her husband up and down – from his dripping mustache to his boots, sopping wet and forming a dark puddle at his feet. She folded her arms and maintained her concerned expression. Was it honestly necessary for the king to be out honing his skills on an evening such as this?

"Fergus, what did I tell ye about goin' out in this weather?" she said, gesturing towards the window that framed the raging storm outside. "Just look at ye!"

"Och, I'll be fine, Eli!" he assured her, dismissing her with a wave of his hand and brushing past her.

"Fergus, ye get out of those wet clothes this instant!" Elinor ordered, furrowing her brow as he continued walking.

"Just a wee drink with the lads, Elinor!" the king replied as he joined his men and retreated to his private reserve, neglecting to even glance back over his shoulder to offer his alarmed wife that reassuring, trademark grin of his to which she had grown so accustomed.

Elinor shook her head in disapproval, bunching her skirts in her hands and scampering up to the royal bedchamber, sighing all the while. The young king could be so headstrong. Elinor believed he hadn't truly grown used to accepting his title as a monarch – which, at times, he neglected to recognize and therefore neglected to act as such.

She rolled her amber eyes at the sound of her husband's hearty, excitable laughter; at least he was enjoying himself. He surely wouldn't be in just a short while; she would have no sympathy for him if he caught a chill, and she was certain that he would. Being down in that wine cellar clad in drenched clothing would surely prove to be too much for him, despite the fact that he was normally healthy as a horse.

All she had to do was wait; soon, he would come crawling back to her, pleading for a warm bed he could retire to and a certain lady whom he could cuddle with. Soon, he would learn the inevitable lesson of heeding his wife's advice. Elinor simply had to bide her time, that was all.

* * *

The following morning, King Fergus was, indeed, visibly under the weather. He had awakened with a terrible cough, and his wife could easily tell that he had come down with something awful the night before. Confined to his bed by order of the queen, his vociferous sneezes practically caused the castle walls to shudder with tremors, and his incessant moans for his wife's attention were constantly echoing throughout the hallways.

Queen Elinor always knew best, a lesson Fergus had unfortunately learned the hard way. Much to his joy, his wife was entirely doting towards him during her visits to their room throughout the day, although he supposed she had every right to be cross with him after the way he had behaved the night before. He desperately wished to apologize to her, but the soreness of his own throat and the scratchiness of his normally powerful, baritone voice inhibited him from getting his words out.

Elinor, despite having resolved to remain cold towards him as punishment for his lack of acknowledgment and mindfulness towards her the night before, suffered a melted heart at the sight of her husband's pale, sickly aura. Fergus was normally so healthy, and she felt incredibly sorry for him. The queen desperately hoped that he would make a speedy recovery; she couldn't stand seeing her love in such discomfort for long.

* * *

"Elinor," Fergus moaned weakly, resisting the urge to let loose an audible groan. Seconds later, he persisted, "Eli..."

Much to his relief, his wife appeared in their room seconds later, carrying a small chalice and spoon in her hands. His gloomy visage brightened as she entered, arriving at his bedside and gazing down at him with a regal aura.

"Yes, dear?" she inquired, responding to his rather pathetic calling of her name and observing the man as he glared warily at the contents in the spoon. "What is it?"

"What is _that?" _he asked disdainfully, frowning as she offered him the medicine.

"Now, now, just a wee bit of tonic. It will make ye feel much better. Here," she said gently, bringing the concoction to his lips.

"N-no, I feel fine!" he assured her, feigning cheerfulness while clutching his throat with one of his massive hands.

His wife narrowed her eyes, simply waiting for him to make one false move – any symptom that would alert her to his obvious illness. It was only a matter of time. Elinor could see straight through her beloved's facade, however, and she pushed the brew closer to his mouth. He squeezed his lips together, shaking his head vigorously.

"Oh, come now, darling," she persisted with a chuckle. "Fergus... Fergus!"

"I won't have any of _that, _Elinor!" he whined, turning his head away.

"Sweetheart, if ye don't take this, ye'll only get worse before ye get better!" the queen exclaimed, desperately trying to reason with her stubborn consort.

He shook his head once more, and with an exasperated, weary sigh, Elinor set the chalice upon the table and gazed down at the medicine cradled within the spoon. Slowly, she raised it and waved it under her nose, instantly snapping her head in the other direction at the foul scent. Oh, may the heavens above have mercy on her king's soul.

"Aha, thought so," Fergus mumbled with a frown, folding his arms over his chest.

Elinor mirrored his frown, pondering on how to convince her beloved to take this medicine. This would surely make him feel much more invigorated, thereby helping him recover quicker and allowing him to revert back to his usual activities as soon as feasibly possible. While she suspected that, from her husband's point of view, receiving all this attention from her was nothing to sneeze at, she suspected that was precisely what he would continue to do if he refused to humor her with this request.

At last, after several moments of awkward silence between the couple, Elinor conceived an idea – a rather cruel one at that, but an idea nonetheless. It was an idea that just may work.

"Fergus, darling, perhaps _this _may make ye feel a wee bit better, hm?" she murmured quietly, capturing her ailing husband's attention as he turned his head to face her.

Fergus donned a pleasantly surprised expression as she surrendered the chalice, setting it upon the mahogany bedside table. She proceeded to gently grasp his chin with her free hand while the other clutched the spoon where she concealed it behind her back. Luckily, her husband was much too sick to take note of such an obscure detail.

Sporting an amorous gaze, Elinor leaned in with the intention of delighting him with a passionate kiss. His blue eyes lit up with a sudden vigor, his bearded face lifting with joy. Contentedly, he closed his eyes, parting his lips ever so slightly in order to accept her affection.

With great haste, Elinor took this opportunity to shove the silver spoon into her husband's mouth with a swift motion, and she gazed guiltily upon him as he swallowed the bitter concoction. His dumbfounded expression soon morphed to one of disgust as the bitter fluid trickled down his swollen throat, and his queen leaned down to offer him a kiss to the cheek out of consolation. He glanced up at her with a look of betrayal, and his wife offered him the chalice sitting upon the bedside table. The king rapidly began gulping down the water, making a futile effort to wash the taste out of his mouth.

"Oh, Fergus, I'm sorry!" she insisted apologetically, gently stroking his ginger hair.

"I wouldn't want ye to catch this anyway," he grumbled, slamming the chalice down upon the table. "Maybe ye should go." He rolled over to face away from her, bundling himself up with thick blankets.

Elinor sighed, retrieving the instruments from the bedside table and turning towards the door. Her king was simply cranky; like a child, when he didn't get what he was striving for, he would often withdraw himself, especially if he was forced to remain cooped up indoors. She glanced back over her shoulder with a slight albeit warm smile.

"Very well, Fergus," she said lovingly in a quiet, calm tone of voice, placing her hand upon the doorknob. A split second later, her husband's voice halted her in her tracks.

"Elinor, love," the king muttered, rolling over, "while I'm able to speak – well, I just wanted to tell ye that I feel awful–"

"I'm sure ye do. It's quite obvious – what with all the symptoms ye have," she mentioned, returning to him as he offered her a loving yet subtle smile. "Not to mention all the complaints comin' from this room," Elinor continued, chuckling endearingly at him.

"Aye, very funny, lass." Fergus sighed, accepting his wife's teasing without offering a comeback. His head was pounding far to much to think of anything witty to say. "No, Eli, I'm talkin' about last night."

"Oh, Fergus, ye don't have to apologize for–"

"No, love, I shouldn't have brushed ye off like that," her husband interrupted, gazing somberly into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Elinor."

His queen smiled, lifting his spirits to indescribable heights. "Apology accepted, darling," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him upon the cheek. She proceeded to fluff the pillows behind him, offering him yet another adoring simper. "Now, can I get ye anythin'?" Just as her husband was about to answer, her amber eyes suddenly lit up with a revelation of some sort. "Oh, Maudie was preparin' some broth a wee bit ago. Somethin' warm will do ye good."

And with that, she turned and left the room, leaving the king in a peaceful silence. A grin crept across his face. He was experiencing flashbacks of that day – memories of years past, back when he never expected that _he_ would one day marry the princess. Not even in his wildest dreams did he suspect such a miracle to occur for such a simple commoner, but he was utterly thankful that it did. Fergus truly couldn't fathom what life would be for him if he hadn't married Elinor; she was quite literally his life. His world revolved around her, in all of her stunning grace.

The woman with whom his thoughts were preoccupied waltzed back into the room minutes later, having replaced the dreadful tonic with something much more pleasant. In an instant, his nose came to life, along with his taste buds, as his mouth began to water with anticipation. The smell of the soup was heavenly, and he realized all at once that his stomach was gnawing with hunger. He hadn't eaten anything all day; he'd felt _that_ ill. Behavior such as that, coming from the hearty king, was a rare anomaly.

His wife gracefully sat down by his side, daintily perching atop the mattress. Elinor dipped the spoon into the steaming liquid, tenderly bringing the broth up to his lips and smiling as he accepted the offering wholeheartedly. She was overjoyed that his appetite was beginning to return to normalcy.

The soup soothed the king's sore throat, instilling his entire body with pleasant, warm feeling. Again and again, Elinor brought the spoon to his mouth and allowed him to ingest the broth in steady gulps, and time after time, he sighed euphorically in his state of pure contentment. Even as a stubborn cough threatened to escape from him, his queen remained ever loyal, bringing a delicate hand to his forehead and stroking it gently.

"Elinor, I don't want ye to catch this," he muttered rather pathetically, his glassy eyes locking with hers.

"Shh," the queen replied serenely, nearly inaudibly in her effort to keep him at ease. "Rest yer voice, lad."

"I mean it, Eli. Ye're goin' to come down with this – if ye haven't caught it already." Fergus insisted in distress, silencing himself as his wife once more brought the delicious brew to his lips. Maudie did know her way around a good broth, that was for certain.

"I don't want to hear another word out of ye, Fergus," was Elinor's response, allowing her husband to take one final sip to finish off the soup. Calmly, she set the bowl upon the bedside table, gazing at the king as she took her place once more. "I'm stayin' with ye – and that's final."

"I wouldn't mind takin' care of ye," Fergus assured her in a whisper, bunching the blankets in his hands and reclining further upon the bed.

"Ye're goin' against the queen's orders, dear," Elinor said in a warning tone, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"Eh? O-oh, I'm sorry, love," the king replied quietly, his eyes slowly fluttering shut.

The queen smiled, thoroughly delighted at the realization that her beloved was far too fatigued to question her authority. He was in need of all the rest he could possibly receive. Perhaps he would agree to a bit of tea and honey later on; it had soothed him in the past, it would surely soothe him now.

"Elinor?" his voice persisted.

"Aye, darling?"

"Do ye remember... do ye remember the day I gave ye that necklace?" he inquired, lifting a hand to gently place it upon her chest, over the pendant decked with the three bears.

"Of course I do," she replied, sentimentally touching his hand and smiling. "Why do ye ask, dear?"

To her pleasant surprise, her husband released a chuckle. "Betcha never thought that the tables would be turned someday, huh?"

"I hoped for it," Elinor murmured, clutching his hand more securely to her bosom.

Fergus raised his head slowly, a pair of widened eyes gazing into the queen's. "Ye... ye did?"

"A-aye," his wife whispered, timidly.

An evident rosiness tinged her cheeks, a spectacle that nearly sent her king up the wall with desire. But, he resisted, considering the fact that Elinor's chances of contracting his cold would be heightened if he pursued his urges.

"Ye don't know what that means to me, Eli." he professed lovingly, and he truly meant every word of it. "I think _I_ always loved _you_, darlin'." added Fergus, being taken aback as his wife lunged for him, capturing him in a tight hug.

Professing her love for him, as well, Elinor brought her face close to his her amber eyes instilling him with a tranquility unlike any he'd previously experienced. Lost in the embrace and entirely focused on her passionate words, the king remained silent for a moment before hastily unlocking their arms.

"Fergus, before ye say _anythin'," _Elinor interrupted as her husband began to stammer nervously. "I don't care what happens, dear. If I come down with this, at least we'll be able to spend this time together, aye?"

Completely enamored with the man beneath her, she planted a kiss upon his forehead, putting him completely at ease. Elinor truly didn't mind if she caught this affliction. Tender love and care from her husband would be the ideal remedy.


	27. Superstitions

Superstitions

_Elinor experiences reservations as she finally faces her betrothal to Fergus. _

* * *

The young lord was listless; his wedding was to occur within hours, and he was entirely unready. Physically, of course, he was completely prepared. He was freshly-bathed, clean-shaven; he was groomed in practically every way, to an inch of his life. However, his emotional state was far less appealing. Fergus felt his anxiety from his head to his toes, and thinking of his beloved made the situation at hand all the more terrifying.

He had to see her. He longed to catch a glimpse of those amber eyes that he loved; perhaps that would calm him down. Maybe, if she was just as nervous as he was, he could provide comfort to her in some way. Elinor was always able to unintentionally calm his nerves. Simply her presence could soothe him, and he was extremely indebted to her because of this.

* * *

The princess gazed at herself in the mirror for what seemed like hours. She wasn't ready. She couldn't fathom the possibility of marriage at that moment, let alone the idea of being wed to her closest friend.

With a heavy sigh, Elinor brought her hand up to her neck and lightly touched her silver pendant.

Today was the day. She would finally wed her suitor, the man who also happened to be her dearest childhood friend.

The thought of consummating their marriage caused her to blush a crimson scarlet. She couldn't recall the idea crossing her mind before this moment, but this realization was the impetus for her heart to pound all the more.

Of course, there _was _a need for such actions to be taken if they ever wished to produce an heir to the throne. Heavens, she didn't want to have to worry about _that _for some time, but she did know that it could happen at any time if they allowed themselves to take a chance. Therefore, being prepared was a must. Hopefully, a baby wouldn't enter their lives for some time. Did she wish to have children with Fergus? Of course she did. She could only hope that he would as well. The more she pondered the notion, the stronger her blush became.

At the abrupt sound of knocking at her door, she jumped instantly, nearly losing her balance in the process.

"O-oh!" she cried, taking a deep breath as she regained her composure. She certainly wasn't expecting a visitor. "Wh-who is it?" squeaked Elinor, her breathing unsteady and anxious.

"It's me, Eli," Fergus replied, slightly alarmed at his beloved's unnerving tone of voice. "Are ye... are ye alright?"

"A-aye, aye," she responded, giving a slight chuckle. "Completely fine, darling! Just _fine!" _she sang cheerfully, beginning to hum joyfully.

"May I come in?" the lord asked, placing his hand upon the doorknob.

Elinor gasped at this query, flinging herself across the room and planting herself in front of the door, arms outstretched.

"_N-no, Fergus!" _she cried desperately, her heart nearly breaking at the pathetic whimper of her name with which he responded. "Oh, what I meant to say was, erm... I-I'm indecent!" In a maddening silence, she awaiting his response.

Fergus' face flushed a deep crimson at her remark. He determinedly tried to avoid allowing his mind to elaborate on what she had just uttered before he lost all control over his desires. After a moment, he realized that she was once more speaking to him, though her voice was muffled and incoherent.

"Elinor, I can't hear ye, darlin'," he informed her, gripping the doorknob. "Eli, I have to see ye. I keep thinkin' about what's goin' to happen..."

"We're goin' to be wed," she stated matter-of-factly in response, her heart fluttering with anxiety at this.

"Aye, dear, and I just..." he sighed, unable to put his words together. Why was it, at times, so difficult to speak to Elinor? He had so many things to say, yet something always seemed to inhibit him from speaking. The young lord was sure that it had to be her beauty; it captivated him to the point at which he was unable to form speech.

"I can't let ye in here, Fergus," Elinor said firmly. "It's not good luck! I don't want our marriage to be doomed straight from the start..."

"What? What are ye talkin' about, Eli?" Fergus asked in puzzlement, thoroughly confounded. Was she that unhappy to be marrying him?  
"I'm sorry, Fergus," Elinor murmured. This was causing the both of them so much pain, she could hardly bear it.

"Elinor, tell me the truth, lass. Do ye not want to go through with this?" Fergus asked in a low, solemn tone, preparing himself for heartbreak.

In an instant, the door was flung open, and a pair of lips crashed against his. The young man sensed his heart begin to pound erratically, but he didn't dare break the kiss, as it was far too heavenly to resist. His eyes were currently closed in a state of ecstasy, but he allowed his hands to fall upon his betrothed, exploring her silky locks of hair as he became all the more reassured.

The kiss was suddenly broken, and Fergus' azure eyes opened in response to this, locking with an amber glow so captivating that caused his heart to skip a beat.

"No, no, no," Elinor breathed, backing away from him. "This is terrible," she whimpered, tears welling in her eyes.

Fergus' face fell with a distraught expression. "Wh-what? Eli, what's wrong?" Before the princess could escape him, he captured her in his grasp, his heart nearly breaking as she swiveled around to face away from him.

"Don't ye know," she whispered with a delicate sniff, "that it's bad luck for the bride to be seen by her betrothed before being married?" She turned around once more, her amber orbs glistening with tears.

Her husband-to-be gazed at her in a steady silence, admiring her stunning pulchritude as she stood before him, clad in her sumptuous wedding gown. He approached her, grasped her waist with his powerful hands, snaked his arms around her hourglass figure, and lightly touched his forehead to hers.

"Elinor. It's high time for you to understand. I... I've never felt closer to anyone before," he murmured as his mouth curved upward in his trademark grin, "not in my entire life. I want to rule our kingdom together—to grow old with ye."

Elinor's tears rapidly transformed to those of joy, and she lunged forward to capture her dear friend in an impenetrable, unconditional embrace. With her beloved, she surely would have the courage to claim her throne and rule as queen. Perhaps the day would arrive sooner than she previously imagined.


	28. A Woman Knows

A Woman Knows

_Elinor has only felt this way once before..._

* * *

Queen Elinor's amber eyes slowly fluttered open, and she couldn't resist smiling at the sight she beheld. Her husband was currently sprawled upon his stomach at her side, his arm draped protectively across her form. She rolled over on her side, granting her better access to gaze at her husband's peaceful countenance.

Elinor relished time spent like this—spending quiet moments with her king alone. Presently, she was completely at ease. She wasn't habitually fretting over instructing her daughter with lessons, or carrying out her diplomatic tasks for the day. She was utterly serene and carefree, beguiled by the passion she and Fergus had just shared with one another and the affections he had pleasured her with.

And, yet, she couldn't help but feel slightly peculiar, as if something was out of the ordinary. It was foreign, yet Elinor perceived an astoundingly magical quality to this feeling. She'd sensed this before, years earlier, in fact.

She would soon be with child.

At this realization, her face became etched with joy. She positioned herself on her back, folding her hands delicately over her husband's much larger one. Surely, one not experiencing this would say it was too soon to tell—but the queen knew that her inherent instincts were rarely deemed to be false, especially those maternal in nature.

Elinor was safely returned to reality as her husband stirred and spoke to her. She turned her head to offer him a dreamy expression, and with a chuckle, he kissed her forehead.

"Mornin', Eli." he said gently, tenderly lifting her chin with a loving caress. "I just remembered, I promised Merida I'd give 'er an archery lesson this mornin'." Their bed creaked as he sat up and stretched the kinks out of his newly-awakened body.

"Ye'll never hear the end of it if ye don't keep that promise," Elinor chuckled fondly, regretfully releasing his hand from her grasp.

The man turned his head to grin at his wife. "Right," he said with a slight laugh. Hurriedly, he busied himself with dressing and grooming himself.

"Do be careful with our lass, Fergus." Elinor warned, shaking her head. "I still don't know how I feel about a princess using weapons."

Fergus splashed his face with water from a nearby bowl, chuckling to himself. "Don't worry yer pretty head about it, Eli. I won't let anythin' happen to wee Merida." After drying himself with a towel, he returned to his queen, leaning over the bed and grinning cheekily at her. "Don't ye trust me?"  
Elinor managed a smile. "Aye." she said quietly, beckoning for him to come closer. "A wee kiss before ye leave, then off with ye! Merida will be bouncin' off the walls, dear." the queen requested, mirroring her husband's smile. She absentmindedly toyed with her loose, flowing locks. "Goodness, we can only hope she doesn't come lookin' for ye. I'm sure I look a mess."

"Ye're radiant," the king chuckled, nearing her all the more.

The queen giggled as her husband pressed his lips to hers, and she briefly cradled his head in her palms before releasing him.

"Now, go," she commanded in a stern yet gentle tone, giving him a gentle push before he could start his advances anew. He offered her a solemn, pouting expression, but she remained firm. "Go on, you!" she encouraged, waving him off.

The king stole a quick kiss to the cheek before he trotted away, his voice echoing throughout the corridors as he called his daughter's name.

Elinor stared at the top of their canopy bed for what seemed like hours. Would she tell Fergus? Of course, her husband would be the first to know, whether it be by news from her or his own deduction. He could uncannily read her like a book, much to the queen's dismay. But how could she be certain that she truly was going to be expecting a baby, and that the first symptoms would be fairly imminent? All she could do was wait and trust her instincts; no medic would be able to be of any help so early in her pregnancy.

She could only take a guess at how Fergus would react. Would he be as joyful as he had been when she informed him of her pregnancy with Merida? Or would he simply laugh at how naïve or delusional she was? No, he would be delighted, whether she bore him a son this time, or not. Having a lad _could _be beneficial. It would surely help shape Merida into more of a lady if the king had a son to instruct. Elinor shook these selfish thoughts from her mind. As long as the child was born healthy, both the king and queen would be overjoyed.

Of course, she couldn't be certain of this prospect of having another baby—no one could—but she had a feeling. And it was a delightful one, at that.

* * *

Fergus plopped on to the bed, his full weight causing the bed to groan in protest. Elinor quietly made her journey to her wardrobe in order to retrieve her nightgown.

"Elinor, that was the best meal I've had in—well, since this morning, I suppose." he said with a laugh, making himself comfortable as he reclined on their bed.

His queen smiled ever so slightly, but didn't speak a word. Fergus couldn't avoid frowning. He hadn't taken note until then just how little she had she spoken at the table. She hadn't even taken the time to scold Merida for placing her bow on the table, or admonish the king for his noisy and rambunctious conduct. His wife was most assuredly out of sorts; he could feel it, and he certainly didn't enjoy it.

Silently, he arose and approached her from behind, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace.

"Ye didn't eat a bite at dinner, love—hardly said a word on top of that. Is somethin' wrong?" he murmured with concern, parting her braids and kissing the nape of her neck as she emitted a sigh.

"No, darling. I'm just a wee bit tired, that's all." she replied, turning around slowly in order to reward him for his thoughtfulness.

With a gentle touch, she caressed his chiseled facial features, cupping his face in her hands and bringing it downward in order to touch her forehead to his. She could tell that her husband knew her all to well to accept such a simple answer, for his shimmering, azure eyes studied her relentlessly, as if he were aiming to pry her confession from her.

It had been several weeks, and there was now no doubt in the queen's mind that she was indeed carrying a child. The symptoms she had experienced with Merida hadn't been nearly as severe as they were now. Her fatigue was more crippling, her sporadic cravings and bouts of sickness were more acute, and her moods were more subject to rapid change than she remembered. Her beloved family had yet to have an encounter with the woman she became during those periods of time, and for that, Elinor was grateful.

"Eli, ye're not eatin', ye're barely sleepin' a wink, ye've hardly been scoldin' me at all, and now ye're not tellin' me somethin'. What's the matter, love?" the king pursued, resting his massive hands upon her shoulders.

The queen sighed wearily. The sooner she confessed, the less her husband would pester her; he was such a dear.

"Fergus, dear, ye're... ye're correct." she began, gently taking his hand and leading him over to their bed. She sat down, and he crouched at her feet, firmly grasping her hands. "Darling, I haven't been truthful to ye—a-and I'm goin' to tell ye now, even if I'm unable to put exactly what I have to say into words."

"A-aye?" Fergus whispered hoarsely, as if fearing the worst. His face brightened as his queen's mouth curved upward in a smile, teasing him. "Wh-what is it, Elinor?"

"I'm goin' to give ye another babby, dear. We're goin' to have another wee bairn to look after, whether we need it or not." She smiled sentimentally, observing the king as her statement sunk in. He remained entirely still, his mouth agape. After a moment, his mouth shut, and he swallowed an apparent lump in his throat. Seconds later, he began to stutter.

"E-Elinor, th-th-that's... th-this is just grand!" he chimed, his voice climbing to a crescendo. "Oh, my darlin' Eli!" Fergus sang joyfully, rising to his feet and nearly tackling her to engulf her in his arms.

"Oh, dear! Fergus, careful!" Elinor warned, chuckling softly as her husband obeyed her. She placed one hand over her heart and another over her stomach, which, she was certain, would soon begin to swell.

Her king, his shoulders heaving with excited breaths, offered her an ecstatic grin, and she could only do the same as they embraced one another.


End file.
